


someday you'll be fine (yes i'll be just fine)

by wonuza



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pining, Roommates, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, like...medium burn, no smut but. Spice, sf9 zuho is wonwoo's fraternal twin enjoy, wonseul siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonuza/pseuds/wonuza
Summary: Slowly, his head raises and then he pushes his hood back, revealing his face—which is clearly and undeniably a very good-looking face.  It’s all the more amusing, then, when he looks blearily at Soonyoung, his hair sticking up here and there from sleep and where his hood has moved it out of whack.  He waves with one sweater-pawed fist.  “I hope you’re Soonyoung,” he says.Soonyoung grins, feeling himself relax—he can’t explain why his lingering nervousness falls away in the wake of this singular sleepy sentence, but it feels important, and he’s not one to ignore it when the universe chooses to underline something.  He’s a believer in signs, in omens or plain old gut feelings—however you want to define them, he believes in them.  “I hope you’re Wonwoo.”((And They Were Roommates--Oh My God They Were Roommates))





	someday you'll be fine (yes i'll be just fine)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [instillared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/instillared/gifts).



> HAPPY SIFE I AM SO SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE.
> 
> stilla! i know i ran away with your One Sentence Prompt (prompts plural, actually, remind me to tell you about the TA one that i wrote 8k of and then abandoned with a month to go until the original deadline) and i just hope the extreme Length isn’t offputting for you jfkdlsgjsd. also since i had Mod Privileges i knew i was writing for you this whole time and tried to collect extra nuggets to include to pander to u a little more. if i was smart i would have included more josh hong than a single throwaway mention but yknow. i really hope that you like it anyway ♡ SORRY AGAIN THAT IT’S LATE AS FUCK ILU
> 
> everyone else, i hope you like this too! it took me a very, very long time to stop overthinking it and then even more time to get it to a place where i could actually make progress on Writing It instead of just jotting down dialogue and dialogue and more dialogue. and then i cranked out like 20k+ of it over the last couple of weeks. i THINK i’m happy with how it turned out even though it’s much much longer than i ever anticipated and i think it might actually be kind of all over the place…….hopefully it’s readable at least zzzzz. ANYWAY. happy very late anniversary, swn! you guys know how much i love you but it always always bears repeating.
> 
> okay bye enjoy soonyoung and wonwoo have quarter-life crises: the fic, hope you like your romcoms sprinkled with self doubt and mild existential dread!

When Jihoon tells Soonyoung he’s moving out, he does it like he thinks it’ll shatter Soonyoung into a million pieces.  He starts, gingerly, with _I need to talk to you_ , continues with _I don’t want you to take this personally, Soonyoung_ , throws in some reminders that _you know you’re my best friend in the world_ and several _I’m sorry_ s before ending with _and you know you’ll be fine, you always land on your feet._

And Soonyoung can’t argue.  He has impeccable balance, after all.  So he smiles, and hugs Jihoon, and tells him he’s happy for him—because he really is, you know?  Your hermit of a best friend since forever finds someone they love enough to want to live with, and you’re happy for him.  The having to find a new roommate within a month part he doesn’t love, and of course he’ll miss Jihoon, but he’ll deal with it.  Change is the law of nature, as they say.

Except the more he tries to get used to the idea of living there without Jihoon, (and it is _there_ without Jihoon, mind you, not there _without Jihoon,_ ) the weirder he feels.  The apartment’s going to be _his_ now, he supposes, but it doesn’t feel that way—because it’s never been _his_.  It feels like a hand-me-down, which it is.  It feels like he only ended up there because Jihoon let him move in with him—which is true.  

 “I don’t know if I want to stay here,” he says offhand to Jihoon as he’s house hunting, hunched terribly over his laptop.  “I’ve got a weird feeling.”

Jihoon looks up, and raises his eyebrows in surprise.  “Then I guess you’d better be looking for a place too.”  He pushes his laptop away from him, a little.  “But wouldn’t be easier just to stay?”

Most of all, it feels like maybe he’s been standing still for awhile and he only just noticed.  He looks down at his lap.  “Yes and no.”

There’s a quiet snort of laughter from Jihoon before he responds.  “You baffle me, Kwon.”

Soonyoung decides maybe he’ll try finding a roommate anyway, but just as he’s posting his ad on a billboard in the coffee place near the apartment, he notices a different flyer, pristine and fresh, with only one phone number strip torn off so far.

 

2 BEDROOM APARTMENT  
Appliances included  
Pet friendly  
Bathroom newly renovated

  
  
So Soonyoung folds his own flyer up, and sticks it into his pocket.  Then he snatches this new one off the board and does the same with it.  It terrifies him, a little, but he hasn’t done much facing of fears in a while.  Maybe it’s time.

A week later, when he opens the door to the apartment, he doesn’t expect his roommate to be there.

He knows he _has_ a roommate, of course, but he hadn’t expected to meet him until later—certainly not at nine a.m, given the fact that the few texts they’d exchanged after learning they were going to be living together had come at all sorts of weird hours of the night.  But there he is, as soon as Soonyoung takes the first step inside: curled up in a very plush-looking armchair, asleep, with his hoodie pulled down over most of his face.

At least, he _assumes_ this is his roommate.  He doesn’t know what he looks like, only his name.

For a moment Soonyoung’s unsure what to do, a slight unease starting to build in his gut.  What’s the protocol, here?  Should he wake him up?  That seems weird, right?  But it seems awkward to just...move in _around_ him, too.  He’s never lived with anyone he didn’t know before, and everything he considers seems like a very strange first impression to make.  Soonyoung clears his throat quietly, experimentally, but the other boy doesn’t stir.  He does it again, louder, and there’s still no response.  For another moment or two he just watches in silence, and as he does, he starts to second guess himself.

Jihoon, ever the pragmatist, had scolded him for not insisting on meeting his roommate in person before moving in together, and for not even bothering to Facebook him.  (Soonyoung had told Jihoon he’d deleted Facebook, as part of a total social media cleanse that had thus far been very freeing.  Of course, Jihoon had seen through this immediately, and Soonyoung admitted to losing his password.)  Honestly, though, it boiled down to this:

  1. Soonyoung can count the amount of people he doesn’t get along with on one hand.  
  2. His roommate had seemed normal from the texts—sure, they’d been mostly logistic, figuring out who had a couch, who had a microwave, et cetera, and the texts were painfully devoid of emojis, but he hadn’t given Soonyoung any bad vibes.  
  3. On the off chance he and his roommate clashed, it just meant Soonyoung had his work cut out for him, vis-à-vis getting him to warm up to him—and Soonyoung, well, he liked a challenge every now and then.



  
By the time he’s gone over this list again in his mind to try and calm himself, there’s movement, as if the boy can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on him or sense his worries.  Slowly, his head raises and then he pushes his hood back, revealing his face—which is clearly and undeniably a very good-looking face.  It’s all the more amusing, then, when he looks blearily at Soonyoung, his hair sticking up here and there from sleep and where his hood has moved it out of whack.  He waves with one sweater-pawed fist.  “I hope you’re Soonyoung,” he says.

Soonyoung grins, feeling himself relax—he can’t explain why his lingering nervousness falls away in the wake of this singular sleepy sentence, but it feels important, and he’s not one to ignore it when the universe chooses to underline something.  He’s a believer in signs, in omens or plain old gut feelings—however you want to define them, he believes in them.  “I hope you’re Wonwoo.”

He nods, and grins back—for just a second, before an enormous yawn takes over his face.  The moment still feels important, which makes Soonyoung smile even wider.

“How long have you been here?” he asks, reaching behind him to close the door.  He looks around the room—he’d expected empty, oppressively incomplete, bare walls, a blank canvas, and hoped it would end up exciting him instead of intimidating him.  What he gets, however, is a canvas that is decidedly not blank, instead already sporting a sketch and an underlayer.  Somehow, Wonwoo’s already managed to bring in furniture _and_ a slew of boxes, despite the early hour.  “You have so much done.”

Wonwoo sits up a little straighter (though, not much—atrocious posture.  Soonyoung shudders internally and makes a mental list of some exercises he could do to improve it.)  “Since…”  Wonwoo pauses, looking around as if to gauge what time it is now.  “Three?”

“In the morning?  Three a.m?!”

“I work nights.  I was off, but I was up, and…antsy to get moved in, I guess.  I dragged my brother with me to help move the furniture.”  The soft grin Wonwoo’s been wearing widens a little.  “He was not amused.”  He cocks his head to one side.  “Where’s _your_ stuff?”

Deciding to go ahead and make himself comfortable, Soonyoung makes his way to the end of the couch closest to Wonwoo’s chair.  “My friend is bringing it in a couple of hours.  He had a meeting with a realtor and I was going to wait for him...but I was antsy too.”  He had to have been, to go rogue and veer away from the schedule he’d made for the day.  He situates himself to face Wonwoo a little better.  “Why were you asleep in a chair?”

Wonwoo tells him he hadn’t _meant_ to fall asleep in his chair, but he sat down to rest and, as a self-described nocturnal being, he can fall asleep anywhere if it’s daytime.  Soonyoung listens, taking inventory of what he can tell about Wonwoo just from this.  He doesn’t make much eye contact when he talks, looking down or around the room with an occasional glance in Soonyoung’s direction.  The things he says are direct and concise, and clearly only what he thinks is relevant, but he says them in a way that still makes Soonyoung interested.  Sitting in the chair he’s all folded up, making himself seem small, but he eventually unfolds a bit, and Soonyoung realizes his legs are _long_ and he’s probably not all that small at all—except for how skinny he is.  His voice is deep, but it’s soft, and his features are all sharp but his smile and his eyes are soft too.  As Soonyoung turns his attention fully to what Wonwoo is saying just as he tells Soonyoung that one of the bedrooms has a window while the other doesn’t, and he put his things in the one without.

“Is that alright?  Me and the sun don’t really get along.”

He blinks slowly before he answers—it feels a little like observing his sleepy, soft roommate has made him sleepy too.  “It’s perfect.  She and I get along great.”

Wonwoo tilts his head a little, looking amused and a tiny bit incredulous, then gives a quiet little chuckle.  “Well, that’s very convenient.”

“Right?  Look at us, meshing.”

Jihoon arrives soon after, and receives another wave of Wonwoo’s overlong sleeves.  Wonwoo disappears to his room to unpack his things as the other two work on unloading Jihoon’s truck.  Each trip up the stairs makes Soonyoung feel lighter and heavier at once, and when they’re finally done, and the last box is placed on the floor of his new room, Jihoon looks at him with his hands in his pockets.  “End of an era,” he says.  It twinges at Soonyoung’s heart, a little.  Change may be the law of nature, and their shared apartment may not have felt _his_ , but Jihoon has been his best friend for much, much longer than they’d lived there—so maybe it’s him that felt a little like home for Soonyoung.

“End of an era,” Soonyoung repeats.

Before he can get too sentimental, though, Jihoon glances toward the door of the room surreptitiously, closing it and turning back to Soonyoung.  “You should have Facebooked him,” he warns darkly.  “What if he’s weird?  Now it’s too late.  You’re stuck.”

Letting out a groan as his shoulders slump, Soonyoung bites back, not without a surge of fondness for his paranoid friend.  “Will you shut the hell up?  I lived with you for three years, didn’t I?”  Jihoon simpers, and Soonyoung continues:  “Besides, he doesn’t seem weird at all, Jihoonie.  He seems nice.”

“ _How_ could you know that after like, a cumulative five minutes?  The only thing you could possibly already know about him is that he’s hot,” Jihoon says, and Soonyoung makes a face.   “What?  I’m just saying.”

“Don’t say, perv.”  Soonyoung softens again, thinking of Wonwoo’s contagiously cozy energy.  “And I can tell because...I just can.  His aura’s very...snuggly.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes.  “You’re such a stereotype.  Hippie ass yoga instructor going on about auras and vibes...groundbreaking.”

That earns Jihoon a smack on the back of the head.  “And what the fuck do you know, Miranda Priestly?  Don’t you have a Junhui to be getting home to?  Who, I might add, you only met because he takes my _hippie ass yoga lessons._ ”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”  Jihoon moves to leave, but pauses with his hand on the doorknob—leaving his other free to air-quote as he asks “Who would have thought it’d be _me_ ‘settling down’ in a ‘relationship?’”

Soonyoung laughs—although, that twinges a bit too.  Who indeed.  “I kind of don’t think your boyfriend would appreciate you air-quoting the word relationship?”  He looks down, reality setting in a little.  “I’m gonna miss living with you.”

“I know,” Jihoon says, bittersweet and smiling.  “I’ll miss you too.”

“You’ll be too busy fucking your boyfriend.”

“...Well, you’ll be busy eyefucking your hot ass roommate.  Maybe even regular fucking…?”  Jihoon throws his hands up in defense as Soonyoung bristles.  “Sorry, sorry, what was I thinking!  You’ll be _snuggling_ his _aura_.”

A knock from the wall Soonyoung’s room shares with Wonwoo’s cuts off Soonyoung’s retort before he can get it out.  “Not to interrupt your touching goodbye,” comes Wonwoo’s voice from the other side, shockingly clear, “but just so you guys know, I can hear literally everything you’re saying and I thought it might be important to establish that as a fact now rather than later, at an even more awkward time.”  Soonyoung feels his ears go red and flares his nostrils at Jihoon.

 “ _Weird_ ,” Jihoon mouths to Soonyoung, before smiling wide, his eyes crinkling cheerfully, and then slipping out the door.

 Soonyoung stands for a second, hand rubbing the back of his neck.  “Sorry,” he calls toward Wonwoo’s room.

 “That’s alright,” comes Wonwoo’s reply, muffled this time through what sounds like a yawn.  “I’m going back to sleep.”

That evening, when Soonyoung’s finished with his room, Wonwoo wanders out, freshly awake with bedhead and all, and asks if Soonyoung’s hungry.  He orders pizza from his favorite place, and guarantees Soonyoung that he’ll like it even as he whines about how unhealthy it is.  When it arrives, they settle onto opposite sides of the couch and dig in (and it _is_ delicious.  Soonyoung pats his stomach and apologizes to it after the very first bite, making Wonwoo scrunch up his nose in laughter.)  They chat a little, getting to know each other—Wonwoo works at a 24-hour diner, (yes it’s ruined his sleep patterns, yes it’s even worse than it sounds,) Soonyoung talks about teaching yoga (yes he knows it’s an eyeroll to hear nowadays when every person who takes one class is like, ‘oh my god, Bikram changed my life,’ yes yoga instructors are technically called yogis, but, as he tells Wonwoo in an attempt to make him laugh again, the name got stolen by that damn picnic bear and now no one takes it seriously.)

(It works.  Wonwoo throws his head back in amusement and Soonyoung feels the tips of his ears go red when he says “you’re funny” like it’s nothing.)

Small talk doesn’t really seem to be Wonwoo’s thing, so it’s a lot of Soonyoung meandering around different topics, hoping something will interest Wonwoo enough to make him engage.  When he does engage, Soonyoung listens closely—because he can tell it’s not that Wonwoo doesn’t _want_ to talk, or doesn’t _like_ talking, just that he’s waiting until he has something to say that he deems worthy of voicing out loud, so Soonyoung takes care to make sure Wonwoo knows he’s interested in whatever it is he has to say.  Despite his few words, it’s easy to talk to him—his snuggly aura at work, no doubt.  Soonyoung feels very relaxed around him, aside from a slight jump in his heartbeat when he laughs.  He chalks it up to excitement and adrenaline from significant life changes and being optimistic about how well he and his roommate are going to get along.

At one point toward nightfall, Wonwoo looks up suddenly, and around a mouthful of pizza he announces:  “Something’s missing.”

Soonyoung shakes his head in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think?”  Wonwoo looks around the room, chewing thoughtfully.  “Something’s off.”

“I mean, it’s the first night, right?  Maybe you’re not used to it yet?”

Wonwoo’s shoulders slump a little.  “That’s not it.  I have this weird feeling.”  Soonyoung looks up, interest piqued.  “It’s not a _bad_ feeling...but it’s like there’s one thing here that’s almost in exactly the right place but it isn’t quite there yet.”  He cocks his head to one side. “I don’t know what it is.  Maybe I’m crazy.”

Soonyoung finds himself smiling.  “Not crazy.  If you’ve got a feeling, that means something,” he says, sincerely.  “And if there’s something out of place in here, I’ll see it.  And it’ll bother me to no end.  So when we figure it out...we’ll fix it.”

  
+++

   
When Soonyoung was nineteen, he’d moved to India.  His friends thought he’d gone insane, and his parents—well, he’d already told them he wasn’t going to uni, so the well of mild disappointment had already been tapped, leaving them no choice but to accept it.  Everyone pretty much assumed, after he chose to forego college, that he was going to _find himself_ in India like every other almost-twenty-something who took a yoga class.  But he can’t even claim that—and he certainly can’t say he’d gone to try to lay groundwork for a career, even though, miraculously, that’s what happened.  No, he’d taken the money he’d saved for uni and he’d gone because the longer he went without furthering his education, or finding a quote-unquote Real Job, the more unsure he felt, the more anxiety gripped him, the less idea he had of what he even wanted to do—and if he was in a different country, away from his real life, he could avoid making any kind of real decision about whether he should just bite the bullet and do uni anyway, or whether he should pursue the kind of career his parents wanted for him because he didn’t know what else to do.  He had wanted to be somewhere he wouldn’t be crushed under the weight of responsibility like that, and hoped maybe something would come to him; even when he started training for his teaching certification he didn’t think it would turn into anything, although he worked insanely hard and trained under a prestigious and well-known guru.  Never in a million years did he expect to come home nearly two years later and immediately land a job at a studio.

His family had been proud, if a little confused.  His friends had been amazed, impressed that his risk paid off.  Somehow, everyone believed this had been his plan all along.

It hadn’t been, though, so Soonyoung sees it differently.  He was happy, obviously; he learned so much on his trip and then he got exactly the job he wanted.  But he was confused as to why he was getting all this praise for a snap decision born out of a desperate need for some _strong_ escapism.  It felt accidental despite how hard he worked.  It feels unearned despite having proof that he earned it.  And even now, years after he’s come back and established his career; even though Soonyoung does his best to plan his days to the minute, and keep his life organized as best he can, it still feels like it could slip away if he makes one wrong move.

And all of that was echoed, however faintly, in how he felt before he decided to find his own place.  The last decision he’d made on a whim had turned out better than he ever could have dreamed, and still left him with this tiny hollow spot of self-doubt in his heart.  Maybe _this_ decision, an _adult_ decision to move into an _adult_ apartment without the safety net of his childhood best friend will make him feel like he has his shit together.

It’s been one week since he moved in with Wonwoo, and so far, he _does_ feel better.  Marginally, at least.  For now.  Hopefully for good.

He’s laying on the floor of his room as he contemplates all of this, doing his best corpse pose—but he can never quite get his mind clear enough to simulate being dead the way you’re supposed to.  (He tends to steer away from that—the being dead—in the classes he teaches anyway, because it makes him far too existential and nihilistic.) Through the hellaciously thin wall separating his and Wonwoo’s rooms, he can hear Wonwoo snoring softly, and he smiles to himself, sitting up.

For the most part, Soonyoung has continued his life as it had been before leaving Jihoon’s.  There’s more space in the new place (Wonwoo had been very accommodating about arranging their living room so Soonyoung had plenty of room to give his private lessons—although he does have to shush his clients every so often now,) and it’s much closer to the studio where he teaches, which is nice, because carrying yoga mats on public transport is terrible.

So a regular day goes like this:  Soonyoung wakes up with the sun, always.  He does his own morning yoga routine and stretches, then makes himself a cup of peppermint tea, usually with some variation of toast or fruit for breakfast.  Then he either leaves to meet whoever he has a session with at their place, or waits for them to arrive.  On days he teaches at the studio he heads there in the late afternoon; on days he has massage therapy appointments to tend to he heads there earlier.  He comes home after, showers (or occasionally, takes a bath—their tub is so huge since the previous tenant remodeled, it feels like a crime to waste it,) makes himself dinner—sometimes vice versa—and putters around until bed.  The main difference compared to before is the quiet, tired presence of Wonwoo.

As roommates go, Wonwoo is easy.  He’s asleep during the day and gone at night; it’s practically like not having a roommate at all, except for the mornings Soonyoung is up when he stumbles in, exhausted, the few hours they might have to see each other or chat in the evenings before he goes in to work, and the knowledge that when Soonyoung’s home during the day, he’s snoozing just on the other side of the wall.  The hours he works are brutal—the diner is just off the university campus, so Soonyoung imagines what would otherwise be a boring overnight shift is full instead of intermittent drunk and/or high college kids, and he often ends up working ten hours rather than eight.  Still, though he’s perpetually dark-circled and yawning, he always has a grin and a greeting for Soonyoung, even if it’s immediately followed by his door shutting and, presumably, Wonwoo sleeping for as many hours as he can.  Which is usually a lot.

The first substantial time they even get to spend together is another week later.  They’ve gotten to know each other a little thus far, between shopping for necessities and generally getting the place set up, but their schedules just haven’t synced well enough yet.

On this particular day, Wonwoo comes in a bit after sunrise as Soonyoung’s having his morning tea.  He leans against the door, letting out a sigh that comes from deep within his soul, smiling blissfully.  “Good morning, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him.  “You’re awfully chipper for seven a.m.”  

“I just worked six days in a row, and _now_ ,” Wonwoo says, pushing off the door and walking to the couch where he flops down unceremoniously, “I get two nights off.  I am _so_ fucking chipper.”

“Well, I guess I don’t blame you.”  Wonwoo’s splayed on the couch, and Soonyoung watches his chest rise and fall for a second before he speaks again.  “Hey.  When you’ve resurrected later, do you wanna get drinks or something?”

Wonwoo cracks one eye open at him.  “Do you do drinks, even, Mr. Vegan?”  The way he says it is like he thinks it’s hilarious, and he’s trying to keep from laughing after.  It isn’t even funny, but the fact that he apparently thinks it was _is_ funny.  Wonwoo is...peculiar, like that, and the effects of his peculiarity are contagious.

“I keep _telling you_ ,” Soonyoung says, sighing in exasperation, but unable to keep from smiling.  “I’m not vegan.  And I think vegans can drink alcohol, anyway.”

Still reclining, but now with both eyes open, Wonwoo grins.  “Beer isn’t healthy, is all I’m saying.”

This is what Soonyoung gets for trying to foster roommate bonding time, apparently, but Wonwoo’s still grinning, so he’s undeterred.  “I’ll buy,” he tries.

“You’re on then, roomie.”

Fast forward through Soonyoung’s day (he gives a lesson to Jisoo, which is mostly low-impact meditation-y silence, and then teaches a class at the studio which passes without much incident,) and now he and Wonwoo are seated across from each other at a tiny two-top in a dark corner of a dive bar within walking distance.  The walk had been quiet, partially because things are still new between them, but mostly because Wonwoo is naturally that way.  Still, Soonyoung wouldn’t call them friends yet, though he’s hoping tonight changes that.  You don’t _have_ to be ‘friends’ with the people you live with, he guesses, but it will probably make things much more fun.

“You really do have to drink, no matter how unhealthy it is,” Wonwoo instructs firmly as he brings their drinks back to the table, but when he sits down his expression falters almost immediately.  “Or, like, if you want, obviously.  But I don’t want to drink alone.”

Soonyoung laughs, partly at Wonwoo, partly at Wonwoo’s drink, which smells strongly of chocolate and is topped with whipped cream.  “Don’t worry, I’d never make you drink alone.  Although, is that even alcoholic?” Wonwoo quirks an eyebrow and holds it out for Soonyoung to taste—he does.  It is _definitely_ alcoholic, and Wonwoo laughs at the face Soonyoung makes as it hits his throat.  After that, there’s a bit of awkward silence as they sip their drinks, until, to Soonyoung’s surprise, Wonwoo speaks up first.

“So you said you lived in...Egypt…?  While you were training?”

Looking up from absently chewing on his straw, Soonyoung raises an eyebrow and smirks.  They aren’t even _drunk_ yet.  “India?”

A small huff of sheepish laughter, and Wonwoo looks down.  “Right.  That makes more sense.  Sorry.”  He takes a drink, then gestures to his head.  “Night shift brain,” he explains after clearing his throat.  Soonyoung smiles, amused.  “Couldn’t you have gotten certified here?”

How many times has he been asked that, now?  At least a billion.  “I could have.  But if you want to make a living teaching yoga—like, actually be able to support yourself—you have to be good enough for all your students to tell all their friends about how life-changing your classes are.  So I figured I’d go straight to the source.”  All true, technically, but the explanation is one he came up with _after_ he’d already decided to go—more of a justification, to get everyone off his back.  “And not only does having trained in India trick people into thinking I’m more legit than all the other instructors—”  He leans across the table, looking conspiratorially left and right, then he whispers:  “It’s actually kind of true.”  As Wonwoo laughs into his drink, Soonyoung reclines again.  “I’m very highly regarded.”

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to lean forward, now, eyes sparkling in interest.  “Does it actually do anything?”

Soonyoung exhales, considering.  “Okay.  Well, it depends, you know?  If you think it’s hokey and you aren’t willing to give it a chance, it’s not gonna do anything.  But a lot of my clients do it for stress relief, or so they can ignore reality for an hour or two.  Jihoon’s boyfriend Junhui, he always says it’s to ‘keep his mind right and his body tight.’  Which...rhymes, but isn’t inaccurate.”  Wonwoo laughs, silently, his nose scrunching up the way it does.  Soonyoung watches how amused he is before continuing. “But for _me_ it’s just about, you know, continual growth.  Self-reflection.  Making sure anxiety doesn’t get the best of me.  Uh...being happy,” he finishes sheepishly, because that’s usually where he loses people if he hasn’t already.  “And, you know, also the rhyming thing too, I guess.”

But Wonwoo doesn’t scoff, doesn’t roll his eyes or laugh at him.  It might be that he’s already downed over half of his drink, but he’s looking at Soonyoung with eyes wide and earnest.  “It really makes you happy?” Soonyoung nods, smiling.  Wonwoo raises his eyebrows, nodding in acknowledgment.  “Damn.  Maybe I should try it.”

He knows Wonwoo doesn’t really mean it, because hardly anyone ever does.  Wonwoo finishes his drink and waves down a waitress—he ends up just asking for a pitcher of beer.  “Well,” says Soonyoung, “your goal starting out shouldn’t be for it to make you happy.  You have no idea how many people quit after two weeks because they didn’t have some life-changing epiphany, or all their stress didn’t instantly melt away.”

Wonwoo leans his chin on one hand, smiling vacantly.  He’s obviously crossed the threshold into tipsy.  “What should I start with instead, then?”

“You have to know what you actually want.  Then you can figure out _how_ you can be happy.  That’s what I tell the ones who are looking for enlightenment, or what the fuck ever.”  Soonyoung pokes around in his glass with his straw.  “Like, you know how we keep moving one thing an inch at a time in the living room because you feel like something’s off but you don’t know what it is?”  Wonwoo grins, a little bashfully.  “You have to figure out what you really mean by enlightenment, because that’s not something with, like, observable results and proof, so you’ll probably end up disappointed.  You, yourself, your life, that’s real.  So if you figure out what you’re actually looking for…you have a much higher chance of finding it.  As opposed to, y’know.  Chasing after a fucking metaphysical concept.  Or thinking ‘being happy’ is simple enough that half-assing a yoga class can achieve it for you, as opposed to it being a complex combination of a ton of different factors.”  He pauses to sip his drink.  “And sometimes the introspection and self-evaluation stuff can help you figure that out.  But most people don’t want to actually do that part, they just want to like, get in child’s pose and suddenly not have depression.”

Soonyoung clears his throat when he’s done, and waits for a response as Wonwoo sits up straight again.  “That…” he starts, then pauses, trailing off and looking into space for a second.  His eyes snap back to Soonyoung, though, and he licks his lips.  “I don’t really get how doing poses and exercise is supposed to help you do any of that, but it sounds significantly less like bullshit than I would have expected.  Before I met you, I mean.”

_That_ makes Soonyoung’s ears get hot, but it might just be that he can’t drink nearly as well as Wonwoo apparently can.  “Well, it doesn’t work for everyone.  But thank you.  It kind of takes a lot of work to get there, honestly.  The practice itself promotes that kind of transcendent nonsense.  The ultimate goal of yoga is _liberation_ ,” he says, a little derisively, “which is kind of better and more tangible than enlightenment, I guess?  But, even within the context of yoga itself, liberation is defined a billion different ways.  So it’s only a _real_ goal if you know what you’re trying to get liberated from.  Most people don’t, not really.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“Of course not.  Even if you end up liberated from one thing, you just find something else you need liberated from the next day.”  

Wonwoo narrows his eyes at him and points a finger in his direction.  “I might just be drunk, but you sound super fucking enlightened right now.”

Feeling very validated and very happy, Soonyoung finishes off his drink.  “I met my last boyfriend at one of my classes.  And it turned out he asked me out _specifically_ so he could ‘observe my practices’ and ‘ascend to my level of _moksha_.’”  Wonwoo’s nostrils flare and his face contorts in disbelief.  “I, of course, did not find this out until a few dates in, when he expressed his frustration that he wasn’t _learning more from me_.”

“Oh my god?”

“Right?  I’m like, sign up for more classes, dickhead.”  Soonyoung leans on the table, pouting.  “The sex was really good, though.”

Wonwoo laughs—he’s louder in this moment than Soonyoung has heard him since they moved in, and he’s starting to slur his words a little.  “That _sucks_.”  He fidgets in his seat a little, apparently unsatisfied with his current position, and his shoe nudges Soonyoung’s leg under the table as he re-crosses his legs.  “The last girl I dated—she dumped me for my _fucking_ manager.”  There’s an odd little pang of disappointment in Soonyoung’s gut.  “And the last guy I dated, dumped me for a girl.”  Pang eradicated.  Or imagined?  Imagined, probably.

“Wow,” Soonyoung says, writing off any hypothetical pangs as merely a result of his nice, fruity drink.  “Your manager, though?  Is he old?”

“Worse.  He’s younger than me.”

“Oh _no_.”  

“I know.”  Wonwoo scowls darkly for a moment, wrinkling his nose in disgust, before looking back up at Soonyoung.  His cheeks are flushed red from the drinks he’s downed probably too fast, and he tilts his head to one side, observing Soonyoung carefully.  “Hey,” he says, in this mumbly, suspicious voice that has Soonyoung feeling almost nervous, until he continues:  “What’s downward dog mean?  Is that sexual?”  The corners of Soonyoung’s mouth quirk up.  “It really sounds sexual.  I told Seungkwan at work that you’re a yoga...boy...and he told me to ask if you do downward dog...but that’s not something, right?  It’s just something yoga-y, right?”

Realizing that Wonwoo is on his way to _drunk_ drunk, and abandoning his hope of getting to know him better tonight, Soonyoung grins.  He gets this question a lot, and it usually annoys him to explain, but—just one more time won’t hurt.

  
+++

   
It’s not uncommon for Wonwoo to arrive home in the morning looking like death warmed over, but some days are worse than others.  This morning is the worst yet, Soonyoung thinks, when Wonwoo drags himself through the door almost an hour late and haphazardly kicks off his shoes and throws his visor on the ground next to them.

“Morning,” Soonyoung says apprehensively, but Wonwoo doesn’t respond.  This isn’t too strange either—according to Wonwoo, anyway, sometimes he’s just so tired that his brain doesn’t register sound and Soonyoung shouldn’t worry about it, it’s totally normal.  Still, something in the drag of his feet and the way he rolls his shoulders calls out to Soonyoung.  They’ve gotten fairly close in the two months they’ve lived together, despite their opposing schedules, and Soonyoung really does hate seeing Wonwoo moving through the apartment like a sad, sexy zombie.  (What?  Sad zombie.  Sad _tired_ zombie.)  “Hey, wait,” he says, and Wonwoo turns reluctantly and looks at him through sleep-heavy eyes.  “You look like shit, Wonwoo.”

“I’m sure I do,” he sighs.  He rolls his shoulders again and then his neck and winces.

Soonyoung pouts in sympathy, and nudges with the toe of his shoe at the floor in front of where he’s sat on the couch.  “Come here.”  Confused, Wonwoo sends a longing look toward his bedroom and turns back with a face that’s begging Soonyoung to leave him alone.  “Uh-uh.  You’ve got bad energy.  You cannot go to sleep like this, you’ll wake up feeling even worse than before.”  He taps at the floor again.  “Sit.”

Wonwoo does not look amused, but he raises an eyebrow—and Soonyoung must have caught his interest, because he’s walking back toward the couch.  “Why.”

“Just fucking sit.”

So Wonwoo sits on the floor in front of Soonyoung, and Soonyoung starts to rub his shoulders.  “Oh my god, _what,_ you are the best fucking roommate,” Wonwoo says, practically groaning.  Soonyoung laughs.

“You didn’t think there was a reason they pay me the...well, the medium bucks?”  Wonwoo’s head drops forward, giving Soonyoung full access to his neck and shoulders.  

“Don’t you have rigidly scheduled things to do?”

Soonyoung grins.  “I can give you ten minutes, I think.”  Discovery: Wonwoo has a teeny mole right in the center of the base of his neck.  “You seriously need a harder mattress if they’re gonna have you pulling eleven hour shifts like this,” Soonyoung says absently, worrying a little at his lip when he feels just how tense Wonwoo is.

Wonwoo sits in silence for a second, enjoying his free massage.  “My mattress is fine.  It’s—”  He cuts himself off with an exhale when Soonyoung digs his fingers in particularly hard.

“I’m not kidding, Wonwoo, you have eight billion pounds of tension in your shoulders.  It’s no wonder your posture is terrible.”  He grunts a little in response.  “Do you stretch before work?”

“No.”

“You should stretch.  And stand up straight.  And it probably wouldn’t kill you to get a new pair of shoes.”

“What do my shoes have to do with it?”

“Only everything, Wonwoo,” he says, leaning down closer to Wonwoo’s head.  Discovery: his hair smells like coconut.  “How was work?”

For a second, Soonyoung can practically hear Wonwoo deciding whether he wants to say whatever it is he’s about to say.  “One of my friends from my single year of uni came in and I hid in the back so she wouldn’t see me.”

Wonwoo’s presence, when Soonyoung actually gets to be around him, is refreshing in its own strange way, and comforting at the same time.  Comforting, because it’s nice to know someone else feels similar to Soonyoung—like he hasn’t _grown up_ the same way the people around him have.  By now Soonyoung knows Wonwoo dropped out of college after a year, and over the course of the few years since then he has lived with:

  1. His parents, who weren’t happy he dropped out, and still haven’t gotten over it
  2. His sister, who has kids, so he felt like he was in the way
  3. His fraternal twin brother, who is the ‘successful’ twin, so being there made him feel worse about his whole situation.  
3a. Purely objectively, Soonyoung thinks it’s not fair that there is another person running around sharing so much of Wonwoo’s DNA, and therefore probably looking equally hot all the time.



  
(“You’re the youngest of your family, huh.”

“How can you tell?”

“All the worrying about being a burden gives it away.”)

So Soonyoung frowns, because as comforting as he finds it that he’s not the only one feeling this way, he certainly wouldn’t wish it on Wonwoo.  Without thinking much of it, he tugs a little at the neck of Wonwoo’s t-shirt so he can get his hands on the actual skin of his shoulders, and, okay, discovery:  Wonwoo’s skin is really soft. “Why’d you hide?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“Because…”  Wonwoo’s shoulders tense up a little and Soonyoung can see his hands in his lap, fidgeting uncomfortably.  “It’s embarrassing to see her all graduated and having a _career_ and stuff and me...not.”  His voice is so small, and it makes Soonyoung furrow his eyebrows sadly.

“Well, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, and I don’t think she would have thought anything of it, but I understand.”  

Wonwoo sighs.  “That’s what Seungkwan said too, after she left.  It’s just hard.  To see it as anything but embarrassing.”

“No, I get it.  It’s like...no matter how many people tell you you’re doing fine and no matter how objectively right they might be it’s still...really hard not to compare yourself to others and feel behind,” Soonyoung finishes quietly.  He’d never been able to talk about this with Jihoon, because, well, he knew Jihoon would just tell him he was being ridiculous, or dramatic, which was kind of the whole issue.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo’s saying when he turns his attention back to him.  “Although it does seem a little ridiculous to me that you feel that way too.  Not that you can’t, just.  Weird.”

That makes sense.  The shortcomings he sees in himself aren’t necessarily visible to the naked eye.  Maybe he _is_ being dramatic.  But he can’t help how he feels.

At this point he’s starting to feel very exposed, despite the fact that he’d only been commiserating with Wonwoo, so he turns the conversation back to him.

“For what it’s worth, I think dropping out is super ballsy.”  He feels Wonwoo’s shoulders move just a little under his hands and hears his unbelieving huff of laughter.  “Seriously!  Do you know how many people hate college and go anyway because they’re _supposed_ to, or whatever?”  Wonwoo doesn’t respond.  “Like, it was hard enough telling my parents I wasn’t going before I’d started.  If I _had_ started?  I probably never would have left.  Just would have stayed and been too scared to quit and been miserable forever.”  

“...I think you’re still the only one who’d call it _ballsy_.”

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says firmly, pausing the movements of his hands, leaving them planted on Wonwoo’s shoulders.  “Making decisions that are right for you is always brave no matter what, but _especially_ if other people think they know better.”

After he says it, Wonwoo is still and quiet for a long moment.  He takes a deep breath after a bit, and clears his throat.  “So you’re saying you couldn’t drop out of college, but you could up and move to _India_ , which is a way, _way_ bigger decision?”

“Please.  It’s so not the same.”

Wonwoo laughs out loud.  “Whatever you say.  I’m too tired to tell you you’re wrong.  You are, though.”

Smiling softly, Soonyoung works Wonwoo’s shoulders a couple more times and then stops.  “Better?”

“Much.”  Before Soonyoung can process it fully, Wonwoo leans his head backwards onto the couch between Soonyoung’s legs and looks up at him with a smile on his face that stuns Soonyoung—it’s nearly blinding, especially given how he’d come in with a rain cloud hovering over his head.  “Thanks roomie.   _Best_ roomie.”

“Anytime,” Soonyoung says, quieter than he means to, and for whatever reason he finds himself furiously resisting reaching down and running his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair.  “Good night.”

“Good morning,” Wonwoo responds, and climbs to his feet.  Soonyoung lets out a shaky breath, and wonders why he’s suddenly being rendered speechless by Wonwoo’s smile.

 

Whatever the reason, the feeling fades and in a few days he thinks nothing of it—and when Jihoon asks “Things are good, then?” when he comes by for lunch a couple of weeks later, Soonyoung has no qualms answering.

“Things are great.”  He means it, and he knows Jihoon can tell, because he’s smiling softly.  Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow.  “He’s like a funnier version of you who’s too tired to be mean to me.”

The smile disappears and the look Jihoon gives him in its stead is chilling, though it softens after a second into his standard level of sarcasm.  “Am I being replaced as your best friend?”

“Yes.  Goodbye, tiny man,” Soonyoung announces with a dramatic flourish of his arm.  He holds it out for a moment, then drops it at Jihoon’s unimpressed face.  “Of course not.  I mean, we’re pretty good friends now, but you’re still my _sweet baby boy_ ,” he says, reaching over to pinch both of Jihoon’s cheeks.  

“Stop— _stop_ —”  Jihoon bats him away, and they end up in some kind of kindergarten slap-fight for an embarrassingly long time before they both sit back.  “You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” Jihoon grumbles, beaming nonetheless.

It’s nice to see Jihoon, despite the bickering, because the bickering is just how they are—it’s how they’ve been, forever.  There’s fondness at the heart of it, no matter how infrequently Jihoon makes that clear.  It’s strange, though.  He doesn’t miss him nearly as much as he’d expected.  He really had thought he’d feel lost without the comfort of living with him, but it just feels _normal_.  Better, even, though he’s not about to tell Jihoon that—he’s planning to get much more mileage out of being mercilessly kicked out onto the street like a common urchin.  More and more, his feeling that he’d gotten stuck without realizing seems to be true—like he’d been avoiding opportunities to move forward subconsciously, and now that he finally took one everything is just _better_.

Maybe this is progress, or something.  And he didn’t even have to leave the country.

As he’s catching up with Jihoon (he and Junhui are just about to move into their new place, and Jihoon hates all the paint colors Junhui likes,) Wonwoo shuffles into the kitchen to pour himself a soda, then opens up one of the cupboards—Soonyoung laments his beautifully organized snack shelves as Wonwoo digs through them chaotically, but chuckles to himself anyway.  “Soonyoung, do we—” he turns, cutting himself off when he notices their guest.  “Oh, hey Jihoon.  Do we have anything that actually tastes good?  I tried your dehydrated carrots or whatever and they are not for me.”

“Those are tomatoes, Wonwoo—can you not tell the difference between a tomato and a carrot?”

Wonwoo pouts at him.  “I just want something tasty,” he whines.  “Something that didn’t grow in the dirt.  Something with zero health benefits.”

“You’re living with the wrong guy,” Jihoon says, pulling out his phone and shaking his head.

Amused, Soonyoung giggles, before shrugging loftily.  “I guess you’ll just have to go get some yourself, won’t you?”

“Boo,” Wonwoo says, furrowing his brows.  “You have to come with me.  I’ll never make it on my own. _Please_ , best roommate?”

Soonyoung snorts.  “I might be persuaded to pencil you in.  When?”

“Whenever.”  Wonwoo pauses, looking down at his soda, clearly trying not to smile.  “I don’t... _car_ rot...one way or another.”  With a surprised cackle, Soonyoung doubles over.  It’s not even _funny_ , but Wonwoo just looks so fucking proud of himself it’s impossible not to laugh.  When he straightens back up, Wonwoo’s nose is scrunching, laughing at Soonyoung’s evident delight at his joke.  “See, this is why you’re the best roommate.  My brother never laughed at my jokes.” He picks up his drink and heads back toward his room.  “Remind me I need to do laundry before tomorrow.”

“Seriously, you have to let me know when—you know I have a busy week!”

“You got it, chief.”  With that, he’s back behind the door of his room.

When Soonyoung looks away from his door, still smiling, Jihoon’s gaping at him, one eyebrow raised.  “Holy shit,” he announces.  “You didn’t tell me you guys were doing _that_.”

“Doing what?” Soonyoung asks, tilting his head curiously.

Jihoon makes an incredulous face, pointing quickly back and forth between Soonyoung and Wonwoo’s door.  “Flirting mercilessly?!” Soonyoung practically feels the cartoon question mark appear in a thought bubble above his head.  They aren’t _flirting_ , they’re just getting along.  They’re friends.  Apparently, though, Jihoon is convinced otherwise—he pulls a face and clasps his hands together—”’Oh, I _suppose_ I might be _persuaded_ Wonwoo, oh look at that, our fingers just gently brushed as were walking and now—oh, now we’re holding hands, oh my goodness, Wonwoo, _how_ did your dick get in my ass like that—’”

Soonyoung snorts.  “Will you shut up?  You’re being ridiculous.  We aren’t flirting.”

“‘Oh, _Soonyoung_ , you simply _must_ come to the grocery with me and buy me some candy, I think I’d _die_ if I had to let you out of my sight—”

“Seriously.  Stop being weird.”

“Stop being blind.”  Jihoon’s just smiling now, no malice or teasing left.  “You laughed at his bad pun as if it was the first fucking joke you’d ever heard.”

Honestly, why does that have to _mean_ something?  What’s Soonyoung supposed to do if Wonwoo is hilarious?  “It was a _vegetable_ pun, how am I supposed to resist that?!  Especially when all he eats is chocolate.  At least his jokes are healthy.”

Jihoon pats him on the shoulder.  “Whatever you say, Soonie.”

Soonyoung bites his lip as Jihoon looks down at his phone again, his mind returning to the massage he gave Wonwoo the other day, and the smile Wonwoo gave him in return.  They aren’t flirting.  This is just how they are with each other—they get each other’s humor because you learn a lot about someone fast when you _live_ with them, you become friends fast when you learn about them fast.  They balance each other, is all.  It just works.  It doesn’t mean they’re flirting with each other, and it certainly doesn’t mean anything beyond that.  Soonyoung lifts his hand to his mouth and chews on his thumbnail anxiously—before realizing what he’s doing, and stopping before Jihoon can notice.  That’s a habit he only has when he’s _really_ a mess, and he’s only _really_ a mess when—

Well, when something happens that is _not_ happening between him and Wonwoo.

  
+++

  
All of the clients Soonyoung gives private lessons to are different—they all learn differently, and they all do yoga for different reasons.  Junhui always wants to gossip through the whole thing, only really taking pose direction from Soonyoung.  Yewon wants to know the meaning of every asana, be told the significance of the placement of every part of her body.  Chan does Ashtanga, which usually is too physically demanding to leave room for chatting, but Chan manages to update Soonyoung on his life during every session anyway.  He’s got several other regular students too, and he’s been giving lessons at home for a long time, and it’s never gotten him in trouble before.

Until Hansol.  Hansol should not have gotten him in trouble, because Hansol’s sessions are characteristically quiet and chill.  But on this particular day, the chillness and the quietness converge in such a way that Soonyoung is helpless at their mercy, and they end up very.  Much.  Getting him.  In trouble.

See, the lesson was supposed to take place at Hansol’s, but when he arrived, Hansol turned him around and pushed him out the door, frantically whispering “Please let’s do this at your place my sister wants me to smoke less so I’m trying not to do it here anymore and I’m dying, I’ll front you a joint I’m begging you” until Soonyoung finally laughs and tells him it’s fine.  Normally, he would not have allowed such a deviation from his plan for the day, just on principle.  But he’s in a good mood, so he does.

Mistake number one.

Mistake number two:  letting Hansol’s indica-loving ass smoke him out as soon as they walk through the door.

The lesson goes by quickly, and quietly; so, so quietly.  Mistakes number three through six are that, apparently, they didn’t make enough noise coming into the apartment, during the lesson, going into Soonyoung’s room to smoke again, _or_ when Soonyoung sends Hansol off, telling him he’s going to end up paying him to smoke his own weed.

Mistake number seven is falling asleep and not hearing Wonwoo wake up, head to the bathroom, and turn on the shower.

Mistake number eight is that Soonyoung wakes up from his nap starving.  Mistake number nine is getting up and opening his door to head to the kitchen, yawning.  And, finally, fatally, mistake number ten is having eyes, because when he opens them after he’s done yawning, he sees Wonwoo, stretching up to rummage through Soonyoung’s snack cupboard, clad only in a towel that’s hanging treacherously low around his hips.

Soonyoung blinks.  He blinks again.  Time has stopped, maybe, or he’s finally mastered the complete mental clarity of corpse pose, but standing, and being much closer to death than if he was just closing out a yoga session and staring at the back of his eyelids.  He _wishes_ that was the case, that he just saw darkness currently instead of Wonwoo’s _shirtless back_ , but no such luck.

His brain function hasn’t come back, but he’s staring at Wonwoo’s shoulder blades shifting as he keeps looking through the cupboard and remembering he has _touched_ those shoulders and it’s a lot.  “Um,” he finds himself saying, for no reason other than he’s fucking stupid, apparently?  Wonwoo jumps, swearing, and whirls around, but he relaxes when he sees Soonyoung.  Soonyoung wonders what it’s like to be relaxed—he swears he used to know, but that memory seems to have gone.

“ _Fuck_ , you scared the hell out of me, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo’s saying.  He laughs a little, placing a hand on his chest—his bare chest.  His surprisingly firm looking bare chest.  “I didn’t know you were home.”

Soonyoung swallows thickly.  Possibly his throat is closing up.  “I didn’t know you were awake.” His eyes have a mind of their own, now, and they trail down Wonwoo’s body without his permission.  Those are abs.  Wonwoo has abs.  What the _fuck_.  “And naked.”

“I’m not naked, I have a towel,” Wonwoo responds, entirely recovered from his scare and sounding completely casual.  As if the towel helps!  It’s still hanging very low and—bad, it’s just bad.  Soonyoung’s whole face is burning.  “Besides, you wear yoga pants one hundred percent of the time.  I feel like this doesn’t even _begin_ to make us even.”

The moment Soonyoung tears his eyes away from _Jeon Wonwoo’s Mother Fucking Abs_ and meets Wonwoo’s gaze again is when reality snaps back into place.  He squints, glaring at Wonwoo.  “Worst.  Roommate.”

Wonwoo smiles, confused and shaking his head.  “What?!”

Soonyoung crosses his arms, tensing up.  “You don’t just get to run around naked, Wonwoo.  This is a _shared apartment_.”

“...Are you really mad?”

“No, I’m—of course I’m not _mad_ , I’m just _saying_ —”

“Well, hang on, why would this constitute me being the worst roommate?  And why would you say that if you weren’t mad?”

“I just think you should...be a little more considerate,” Soonyoung grumbles, looking away.

Wonwoo gapes at him.  “Well, maybe _you_ should—fucking—stop nagging me to eat rabbit food all the time!”

“How’s that relevant?!”

“I’m only out here because I was _looking_ for a suitable snack.  But all we have is fucking twigs and berries.”

“Well it’s not my fault you inhale all your gross snacks the minute you get them—and you could have looked for a snack wearing clothes!”  Soonyoung wags a finger at Wonwoo, his voice raising in pitch and volume.  “And I don’t eat twigs!  But if they had proven health benefits I would try them!”

“What—this is so stupid?  Why are you being so pissy?”

“Why are _you_ being so pissy?”

“I wasn’t _being_ pissy until _you_ started being pissy.”

“Well—just—wear clothes next time you’re running around in front of god and everyone!”  Soonyoung huffs, and spins around to stomp off to his room, leaving Wonwoo stunned behind him.  He doesn’t slam the door, but he closes it firmly behind him and then stands, unsure of what even just happened.  Already feeling guilty for...whatever the fuck that was, he bites his lip and considers going to apologize—but Wonwoo is still probably in some degree of undress, so.  Bad idea.

A worse idea, probably, is texting Jihoon, because he is terribly unhelpful in these situations, but Soonyoung is in crisis, so he does it anyway.

 

_ <  EMERGENCY_  
_ <  WONWOO IS HOT. _

_>  you knew this already_

_ <  no.  No_  
_ <  i just saw him shirtless………….. _

_>  oh baby_  
_ >  and_

_ <  a n d  h e i s  h o t _

_>  wait so_  
_ >  are you gonna freak out now_  
_ >  like you’re obviously freaking out NOW but are you gonna you know_  
_ >  do your thing where you can’t be normal around him now_

_ <  NO WHY WOULD I DO THAT JIHOON _

   
Maybe he should have considered this.  God, he should have _fucking Facebooked Wonwoo—_ he’s only lived with his family and Jihoon, and he’s never found Jihoon _hot_ —okay, maybe after Jihoon spent that summer at camp and got all tan and muscular and Soonyoung saw him in the changing room when school started, _maybe_ , for half a second, but it was _weird,_ because it was _Jihoon_ , and he got over it.  But he doesn’t have years and years of childhood friendship that predate Wonwoo being hot, doesn’t have a viable reason he _shouldn’t_ think he’s hot besides that it would be a _problem_.  It was bad enough trying to ignore his nice smile.  This?  No, no, no.  This could ruin _everything_.  Attraction leads to crushes and Soonyoung, historically, does not handle crushes well, because he freaks out, so he can’t be attracted to Wonwoo, not in any way past ‘my roommate is objectively hot and that’s okay.’  He definitely can’t know what the lines of his muscles look like, he can’t know where he has moles and birthmarks that are usually covered by clothing, can’t know he has fucking abs (!!!!!!!) and can’t can’t _can’t_ be thinking about how low that towel had hung on his stupid non-existent hips.  He cannot.  It will not do.

Also, someone must pay.

 

_<  chwe hansol_  
_ <  u have ruined my life u know_  
_ <  i’m charging you double next time and you can never smoke weed in my house again do you hear me_  
_<  NEVER!!!_

_>  Dude what………._

_<  I’LL KILL YOU!!!!!!!_

_>  WTF_

 

He throws his phone down again, covering his eyes.  Maybe if he gets some sleep, he’ll wake up and realize he’s being dramatic.  If he just has a bit of distance and distraction from Wonwoo’s naked body, things will be fine tomorrow.  He’ll wake up and go about his morning and Wonwoo will come through the door and things will be completely normal, he’ll just be Roommate Wonwoo again instead of Sexy Bastard Wonwoo.

So the next morning, he wakes up, and he goes about his business.  He sits cross-legged on the couch as usual, scrolling through his phone—and then the door opens, and Wonwoo comes in, and Soonyoung remembers very suddenly that he had an incredibly vivid and detailed and very much not roommate-oriented dream about him in which Sexy Bastard Wonwoo had done several _very much not roommate-oriented things_ to him and has to bite back a scream.

“Hey, roomie,” he says, tiredness evident in his voice.  “You over being weird?”

Blinking slowly, Soonyoung bites his thumbnail and watches as Wonwoo takes off his visor, shakes out his hair, then starts to unbutton his work shirt.  “Uh,” he says, his voice shaking a little.  “I was never weird.”  He tries to still his heartbeat, because he knows Wonwoo has an undershirt on, it’s not like he’s going to be shirtless again.

Except the whole unbuttoning thing is _really_ getting to him, in some ridiculous way.  He swallows, not taking his eyes off Wonwoo’s fingers until he’s down to his undershirt, which is unfortunately making him look extremely broad and a lot like a boyfriend.

A friend, Soonyoung means.  A hot roommate.  A _normal_ roommate.

“What are you staring at?”

Soonyoung’s eyes snap up to Wonwoo’s face, away from his chest, where he’d been blatantly staring before.  “What?  Nothing—you—have a stain on your shirt.”

Wonwoo looks down.  “It’s a black shirt, Soonyoung, how can you—oh.  You’re right.”

There’s really a godforsaken stain.  Exhaling through his nose, Soonyoung thanks every deity he can think of that Wonwoo is a slob.  “You should do your laundry,” Soonyoung says through his teeth.

“I’m probably gonna sleep first—”

“Hurry up and go on, then!” he blurts desperately.

Wonwoo stares at him for a second, and lifts his hands palms-up in confusion.  “Okay? I’m going, jeez.”

Once the door to Wonwoo’s room shuts, Soonyoung grabs one of the couch pillows and presses it onto his face as hard as he can, half-yelling, half-growling into it until his face is red.

This definitely constitutes freaking out, he thinks.  Fuck his actual life.

Fortunately, he has a session soon, which Chan arrives for early.  It would have annoyed him any other day, but today he just hisses “thank fucking god,” pulling him through the door.  Before they’re a quarter of the way through his lesson Soonyoung has, in hushed tones and between half-hearted pose directions, recounted the events of the morning and the previous day.  Chan’s always annoyingly wise about everything, so maybe he’ll have some sage advice.

“So...I don’t think I understand,” Chan says, squinting in confusion.  “You just...saw him shirtless, and now…?”  He trails off, shaking his head.  “What, exactly?”

“Now I’m freaking out.”

“Because he’s hot.”  Soonyoung nods furiously.  “But why?  I mean, do you like him?”

“No?   _No_ , Chan, oh my god, no.”  Of course he doesn’t like him.  He doesn’t.  “I just had a sex dream about him, I—I _can’t_ like him.”

“Right.  So you do like him.  Now I’m getting it.”

“You’re not!  You don’t get it at all.  I—don’t _like_ people very often and when I do—”  He stops, pouting.  “Crushes have never really ended well for me.  So now when I actually get one I just...lose my shit.”

Chan stares at him, and then realization spreads across his face, followed by a smile.  He points one finger in Soonyoung’s direction.  “Panicked gay!”

“Channie, _please_.  You don’t understand, he has a _happy trail,”_ Soonyoung pleads, but Chan’s already laughing so loud it’s a miracle Wonwoo isn’t already awake and trudging out of his cave.  “Stop laughing!  I don’t wanna lose my shit with the person I _live_ with, what do I do when our household falls apart and one of us needs to move out, probably me, because I don’t think I could force him back to living with his family because it makes him feel bad?”  It isn’t fair how pointedly Chan’s looking at him. “That doesn’t mean I like him!  That’s just me being a good person.”  Another _look_ , eyebrows raised as if to say ‘really bitch.’  Soonyoung is highly offended. “I’m a good person!”

“You are.  You are a good person, Soonyoung.  But losing your shit about not losing your shit is still losing your shit.  It would be easier to just let yourself feel whatever you feel.”  So _now_ he has wisdom, after disrespecting Soonyoung in his own home with his looks and his comments.  “Isn’t that what you always tell me when _I’m_ having a weird time?”

God damn it, it is.  And usually, he’d have no problem doing so.  He’s _always_ been a proponent of that—it’s part of his whole _deal_.  But this is different.  In this specific situation, feeling his feelings would be catastrophic, so he’s very much not planning on it.

Chan snorts when he doesn’t reply.  “Well, I tried.  And I was supposed to leave ten minutes ago, so I’m going.  I wouldn’t want to throw your whole day off.”

 

When Wonwoo wakes up, Soonyoung greets him with a tight-lipped grin and quickly retreats from the kitchen table into his room where he can try to come up with a plan of action.

Wonwoo isn’t even that hot, anyway, is the thing.  Like, yeah, his looks are a little disarming when you first see him, or when you have limited contact with him, but Soonyoung’s friends—they don’t _live_ with Wonwoo.  Soonyoung has seen him shoving cheese puffs and Slim Jims down his throat like he needs them to live, seen him going on eight days with no shower because the only place he goes is work.  He’s messy, and has a terrible diet, and come to think of it he probably stinks of grease and _diner_ , which isn’t attractive at all.  See.  Not hot.

...Unfortunately, though, Soonyoung knows this is a lie, because he actually smells fantastic.  Which isn’t fair.  There, another reason not to like him—or, not to think he’s hot, Soonyoung means, obviously.  It isn’t fair that he smells so nice and it isn’t fair that he looks _good_ in his diner uniform and it’s certainly not fair his stupid jokes make Soonyoung laugh and it’s not fair he has such a nice smile and pretty eyes—

This isn’t doing nearly as much to un-associate Wonwoo with hotness as Soonyoung thought it would.  It’s pissing him off pretty fucking good, though—not really what he was going for, but he supposes maybe it’ll get the job done.

And that’s how Soonyoung’s carefully cultivated peaceful living arrangement shatters.

  
+++

  
Maybe it’s somewhat Soonyoung’s fault, for staring at Wonwoo with increasing frequency and refusing to give him an answer as to why when he gets caught.  But Wonwoo seems to be making a point to be a worse and worse roommate, and Soonyoung’s done _nothing_ to deserve it besides ask him to wear clothes.  Maybe Soonyoung nags a _little_ , but Wonwoo shouldn’t need him to _remind_ him to do his laundry or the dishes—he’s not his fucking mother, though he wishes he could ground Wonwoo when he looks him in the eye and sits his dirty dishes beside the sink instead of in it.  Maybe Soonyoung scoffs at Wonwoo’s dietary choices, telling him if he doesn’t eat better or exercise he’s going to die before he turns thirty—but that’s all for his own good, and it doesn’t justify Wonwoo bringing even _more_ terribly unhealthy food into the house, leaving it everywhere to annoy Soonyoung.  

And he does it all while having the audacity to be hot, although the worse Wonwoo gets, the less of an issue that becomes.  That’s what Soonyoung tells himself, at least.

It starts a couple of days after the weird morning-shirt-unbuttoning thing.  During those couple of days Soonyoung tries desperately to make sure he never _like_ likes Wonwoo, and that involves a lot of spending the least amount of time with him possible, not looking at him when he’s talking in case he smiles, failing not to look at him and staring at him like a creep instead, trying to think only about his less than perfect qualities and not how cozy he is or his face or his _body_.  So yeah.  Maybe Wonwoo noticed something.  But the first time he initiates the avoidance instead of Soonyoung—well, that just feels entirely personal and unnecessary and only sets Soonyoung off more.  

Then comes the bad roommate etiquette.  Then the passive aggressive arguments.  Now they barely even speak.  Wonwoo stays in his room constantly, avoiding Soonyoung as much as he can.  It’s tense and awful and...it’s just that it had been so good not having to worry about having some chaotic roommate who throws things out of whack.  Clean house, healthy and organized kitchen, peppermint tea, funny sleepy roommate.  Everything was in balance, all was good.  Now all is _not_ good, not in the slightest.

And maybe it’s somewhat Soonyoung’s fault.  But he’s nowhere near the point of feeling guilty enough to apologize yet, and at least this way he knows he’s not going to get a crush on Wonwoo.

Like, it would just be ridiculous if he still managed to get a crush on Wonwoo through all of _this_.

Soonyoung comes home from teaching at the studio to a sink full of dishes that he just doesn’t have the energy for, so he glares at them before reaching into the fridge for the last of his fruit salad.  As he’s eating it and half-paying attention to whatever channel the TV had been on when he switched it on, Wonwoo wakes up, and slouches into the bathroom.  When he comes back out, he starts to head back to his room, but Soonyoung hears him sigh and he turns around.  He doesn’t say anything, just looks at Soonyoung in silence for a few seconds.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, putting on his most disinterested voice.

“Hey.  Can you please try to remember that when you’re out here with clients, I’m usually sleeping, and _not_ yell through an entire two hour lesson next time?”

Yesterday he’d had Eunwoo and Kyungwon, who are not his most quiet students.  “Oh.  Yeah, sure.  Sorry,” he says, turning his attention back to the TV.

He hears Wonwoo huff, though.  “It’s just that some of us have actual work.”

Soonyoung looks up again, slowly.  “Excuse me?”

“Just saying.  I don’t have the luxury of getting paid what, four times minimum wage to cut up with my friends in the comfort of my own home?  And I need to be able to fucking sleep.”

Well, this is new.  “I—”  Soonyoung’s a little speechless.  In the couple of tense weeks since The Incident, things have not been good.  But Wonwoo’s never really been _mean_.  “I said I was sorry, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo rubs a hand over his eyes.  “Yeah, whatever.  Just—”

“Right.”  Soonyoung stares at his lap, then stands.  “It’s your turn to wash the fucking dishes, and I know you’re off tomorrow, so you can do it when you get in.”  Immediately, though, he feels awful.  His shoulders slump and he looks at the ceiling and for just a _moment_ he feels brave enough to address things— “Wonwoo, listen—”

“What,” Wonwoo snaps.  “What else have I done, or not done, or what the fuck ever?”  Soonyoung’s mouth shuts.  “You have no idea what it’s like to—”  He cuts himself off, nostrils flaring.  “Just leave me alone.  I’ll do the dishes.”  With that, he spins on his heel and retreats to his bedroom.

Now... _now_ Soonyoung’s starting to feel guilty.

  
+++

  
“So if I’ve got this right,” Chan’s saying as he’s twisting himself into firefly pose, “this started after we had our discussion about you _not_ losing your shit?”

It’s obvious Soonyoung’s _off_ , because not only is Chan leading the lesson instead of the other way around, he’s so tense lately that when he tries to follow him he can’t.  “Yes, but that’s not—that doesn’t have to do with anything.  Fuck,” he says, falling out of his pose and landing on his ass with a thud.

There’s a dry laugh from Chan.  “Oh, sorry.  I didn’t realize we were still pretending you don’t have a crush on him.”

Soonyoung abandons physical activity altogether, and just lays down on his back, glaring at Chan.  “I _don’t_ , that’s not _anything_.  It’s just that he’s being a shitty roommate!”

“Sure.  I mean, I don’t think it’s a coincidence you guys have extra tension after you realized he was sexy, but give me one second to pretend that’s not the reality we’re in and respond accordingly.”  Chan comes out of firefly and goes into peacock tail, and from his upside down vantage point, he gives Soonyoung a pointed look.  “Are you sure you’re being fair?  I mean, he works constantly, maybe he’s just stressed out.”

“Of course he’s stressed.  But that’s no excuse!  He didn’t even do the dishes when he came in and I _told_ him he had to.  He said he would.  He could explain it to me if he was just stressed, instead of ignoring me.”

Chan fixes him with an exasperated stare, like he should be getting this but he’s not.  “Alright.  Don’t get mad.”  Soonyoung gets up, shooting Chan an apprehensive glance, and gets into position with him.  “Did you lose your shit?”

“...In what way.”

“Have you been extra shitty and hard on him because you saw him without a shirt and now you’re going through a _thing_ about it and you’re taking it out on him?”

“I—”  Immediately, Soonyoung comes out of his pose and pulls his legs to his chest.  “No,” he says, chewing on his thumbnail and avoiding Chan’s gaze.

Because yeah, he absolutely has.

Righting himself, Chan sits next to Soonyoung and continues:  “So hypothetically, if you _had_ been doing that, maybe he’s being a worse roommate in response to you being a worse roommate first?”

Shit shit shit fuck _shit_.

“And if that’s the case...”

“Shut up, just shut up.”  Soonyoung’s heart is sinking fast.  “I’ll fix it,” he says quietly, still staring at the floor.

Chan claps him on the shoulder.  “Good boy.”  Soonyoung looks up to find him smiling.  “I think I should be charging _you_ today.”

So Soonyoung paces around the apartment as he waits for Wonwoo to wake up.  He doesn’t have any idea how he’s going to explain himself, because what can he say?  ‘Sorry you’re so hot it broke my brain?’ He ends up running to the store and finding the nicest pair of noise cancelling headphones he can find, hoping that maybe material gifts will help soften Wonwoo up.  Soonyoung knows at this point that he _has_ to apologize—it’s so ridiculous and unhealthy to have a house full of pointless tension and animosity, especially when it’s his own stupid fault for being a god damn mess, so he has to fix it—but he’s terrified, because what if he’s fucked things up for good?  What if he’s made Wonwoo hate him?

He thinks he’d be very, very upset if that were the case.

When he gets back home he waits in his room and listens, occupying himself every now and then with this Netflix original or that youtube video—and finally he hears movement on the other side of the wall.  He strides over to the door, cracking it just a bit once he thinks Wonwoo is probably in the living room and watching as Wonwoo drops heavily into a chair.  He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling at it a little, and finally he hangs his head in his hands, shoulders slumping.  He looks fucking miserable and Soonyoung feels his heart squeeze painfully knowing it’s at least partially his fault.  Like Wonwoo needs to go to work at these terrible hours and have to pull awful, long shifts and already be insecure about stuff and then come home to Soonyoung, nagging him under the pretense of it being ‘for his own good?’  Of course he’s been pissed, of course he’s been lashing out.  Why wouldn’t he?

Soonyoung really dreads this.  He seriously let his dumb fixation make things weird between them when they’d been on their way to…something.  Something? Something.

Gingerly, he pushes open the door.  Wonwoo’s head doesn’t raise, but he does speak.  “I’m sorry, okay, I’ll do the dishes.  I was so tired this morning, I just forgot—”

“Wonwoo.”  He sits down on the couch.  “How about a backrub?” he says, smiling hesitantly and wiggling his fingers.

Wonwoo just stares at him, though, until finally he sighs, and then responds.  “Really?” he asks, skeptical and exhausted.

“Yes, really.”

It’s about now that he notices Wonwoo’s still only in the thin tank top he slept in, but—that’s fine, that’s chill.  Soonyoung gives massages to people wearing much less, at work, and he’s a professional, after all.  Without a word, Wonwoo slips into the floor in front of Soonyoung.  He tenses even further when Soonyoung touches him, but Soonyoung continues, presses his fingers into Wonwoo’s shoulders until they start to relax.

“This better not be your idea of apologizing for being a fucking asshole.”

Soonyoung winces.  “It’s only part of it,” he starts.  “You know how you get night shift brain?  Sometimes I get, uh...I don’t know.  Dumbass brain…”  Well, that’s not a great start.  “I don’t have a good excuse.  I had some weird...personal shit going on...and I didn’t handle it well and I’m so sorry I made things so fucking shitty and stupid.”  Wonwoo doesn’t say anything yet, but he doesn’t object, so Soonyoung continues.  “You’re already so stressed out and exhausted and I know you were only being a not as good roommate because I was being mean.  And like, it’s none of my business what—what _food_ you buy, or if you exercise.  What the fuck was up with that.”  He shakes his head, unsure if this is an effective apology or not.  “I’m just really sorry.  I know how hard you work and how much your job takes out of you and you didn’t need...any of this.  And I think if you ever do want to be a little difficult to live with, you’re entitled to it.  Just let me know, hey Soonyoung, I’m having a shitty time, is that cool?  And I’ll be like, yeah man, because you’re the best roommate.  And if I don’t say that, you can just be like, well remember the time you were a dickhead to me for like two full weeks, and I’ll say right, that’s fair, proceed.”

When he finally finishes rambling, Wonwoo shrugs his hands off and turns around.  He looks shocked, which makes Soonyoung feel even worse.  After a second, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips and he opens his mouth.  “I’m sorry too.  I should have, like.  Been an adult instead of trying to exact revenge.”  He looks down, then back up, and smirks, just a little.  “But you were a _huge_ fucking asshole, you know.”

“I know.”  Soonyoung looks at him sheepishly.  “Are we...good?”

Wonwoo sticks his nose in the air.  “Let’s see how the rest of this massage goes,” he says, settling between Soonyoung’s knees again.  

“Are _you_ good,” he asks, hesitant and soft, because he still thinks there’s something else going on.

“...Work is bad.  You know I’ve worked eleven nights in a row.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen.  “Are you fucking serious?”

“Mhm.  Your little tantrum was pretty badly timed,” he says, but he doesn’t sound angry at all anymore—just tired.  “And…I don’t know.  My brother got this huge promotion so I was already feeling like shit.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything—doesn’t think he needs to, now.  He tries to just focus on giving the massage, but Wonwoo won’t stop making these satisfied little noises, and the cute mole on the back of his neck is just out there, and his shoulders are...so nice.  His skin is smooth and soft and Soonyoung can see every muscle and bone moving beneath it as he shifts under Soonyoung’s hands.  Very quickly, Soonyoung gets overwhelmed with the urge to touch Wonwoo absolutely all over, which really, really won’t do.

Maybe he needs to keep talking, just so he doesn’t go insane.  “Can I ask you something?” he questions, biting his lip in hesitation.  “Why don’t you quit this job and find something else?”

Wonwoo laughs, just once, mirthless.  “I mean, easier said than done.”

“I know.  I just think...you deserve something better.”

There’s a heavy sigh, as Wonwoo’s head drops forward a little.  “Um...yeah, so, it’s like…I was pretty much powering through out of spite, at first, because my parents hated it when I quit school, and then they hated it when I started working here too, because I guess it made me even more of a failure.  And now...I don’t know.  I’m just here, now.  I don’t know where else I would go.”  A pause.  “It probably sounds stupid.”

“No, Wonwoo, it doesn’t.  I understand.”

Wonwoo laughs.  “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.  I just...I don’t know how you don’t realize how together you have it.  It’s a little ridiculous.”

“See, people always say that.  But all you see is the fact that I’m doing something I love, which, yeah, that’s true.  You don’t see how I’m constantly terrified I’m gonna ruin it somehow, because I don’t feel like I earned it.  I went to India to—”  He pauses on instinct, expecting to feel embarrassed, or something, but finds that he doesn’t; not in front of Wonwoo.  “To avoid making any kind of adult decision about what I was actually going to do with my life.  I thought maybe I’d figure something out while I was there, and then I came home and suddenly I had my dream job.  What the fuck did I do to deserve it?”

“Soonyoung, you worked really hard.  Regardless of why you went.  That’s what you did to deserve it.”

“But there was never a moment of, ‘I’m going to be a yoga instructor.’  I wasn’t even going to India to get my cert, at first.  I was just gonna _go_ because I wanted to run away from having to—to grow up, I guess.  And like, more and more people get certified every day, the market is already so saturated and eventually I’m not going to _be_ this sought after, and no one will want private sessions, and then I’ll only have the classes and eventually people won’t want me there either, and what do I do then?”  

“Holy shit.  I thought yoga was supposed to help you balance all this.”

Soonyoung chuckles.  “I mean, I think I’d be a lot worse off without it.”  Wonwoo hisses as Soonyoung digs his fingers into his back, between his shoulder blades.  “Although, the whole ‘getting to know yourself intimately’ thing isn’t always positive.  After a certain point it kind of just made me get really in touch with what a fraud I think I am.  I guess I sound spoiled or something, because I have a job that makes me happy and I’m still complaining.  But it’s how I feel and I don’t know how to fix it.” He falters for a second, realizing just how much he’s divulging—things he’s never told _anyone_ —but Wonwoo probably deserves some special treatment after the past couple of weeks, and, honestly?  The relief he feels at having made up and the immediacy with which their easy relationship had returned has him feeling open, willing to share, _wanting_ to share.  “That’s why...the lists, and the schedules, and obsessively organizing stuff...because—”

“Because if one thing goes, it all goes?”

Not fair.  Not fair at all.  Soonyoung’s mouth hangs open a little and he closes his eyes, sighing—here he is trying to be normal and Wonwoo has to go and _understand_ him.  He realizes then that he’d _missed_ Wonwoo, and not just as his peaceful, perfect roommate.  Overcome with fondness, he almost chokes up.  “I just feel like I’m faking all of it,” he says after a moment or two.

“Well, I don’t think I’m ever gonna be anything better than a university dropout.  So.  At least we’re in...adjacent boats.”

Soonyoung laughs, and he rests his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders.  “At least.”  He hasn’t moved his hands.  He’s clearly not rubbing Wonwoo’s back anymore, so he really shouldn’t be touching him anymore—but he finds he can’t bear to take his hands away from Wonwoo’s skin—soft, and pale, bones jutting out sharp under a sparse, light dusting of freckles.  Slowly, he runs his fingers across Wonwoo’s shoulders and part-way down his arms, dragging them slowly back up before he hears Wonwoo sigh (or maybe he imagines it,) realizes what he’s doing and pulls them away lightning fast, rubbing them uneasily on his own knees.  “I got you some noise cancelling headphones,” he blurts.

Maybe Soonyoung imagines the nervous way Wonwoo clears his throat, too.  “Oh?”

“Mhm.  Best ones I could find.  Because I know sometimes I’m loud,” he says, embarrassed and flustered.  “And, you know, being a good roommate is very important to me...contrary to what my recent behavior would indicate.”

To Soonyoung’s absolute horror, Wonwoo turns around.  Fantastic: the image of Wonwoo on his knees in front of him.  Not like that’s going to haunt him forever, or anything.  He’s grinning crookedly up at Soonyoung, which sends him into even more of a silent panic.  “Soonyoung,” he says.  Soonyoung’s heartbeat speeds up.  God, not that bullshit again.  Gradually, though, Wonwoo’s smile fades, and it looks like Wonwoo’s going to say something—something important.  That’s the feeling Soonyoung gets, anyway.  But he doesn’t.  His smile returns and he continues softly: “I think you mean the _best_ roommate.”

As they look at each other, Wonwoo smiling that smile and Soonyoung meeting his eyes nervously, he’s overcome with a few thoughts at once:

  1. Wonwoo’s smile—his whole face, really—could probably be classed a weapon of mass destruction.
  2. It’s not _fair_ that Wonwoo is in a position where he’s so uncertain of himself; not fair he hasn’t had enough people to reassure him instead of make him feel worse, on purpose or otherwise.
  3. The first time he gave Wonwoo a massage he’d wanted to run his fingers through his hair—that desire is back a hundredfold, but really, he’d settle for touching him pretty much any way that wasn’t platonic at this point.
  4. No one with a heart as good as Wonwoo’s should ever feel like he’s not enough.



  
So Soonyoung swallows, and looks down at his hands that are woefully still not touching Wonwoo.  “You’re wrong, you know. You have plenty of time to be a million things, Wonwoo.”  He takes a breath, and looks up, where Wonwoo’s smile has faded again, his eyebrows raised just a fraction.  “You shouldn’t worry so much...because you’re already so, so much more than a college dropout. And you’re doing fine.”

Wonwoo looks down and gives a sad, surprised little laugh, but seems to acquiesce to what Soonyoung’s saying.  In this moment, Soonyoung wants nothing more than for Wonwoo to believe him; that he’s fine, that he’s more than he thinks.  Eventually Wonwoo raises his head again.  “And _you,”_ he says, voice so much firmer than Soonyoung’s small, uncertain one, “should let yourself be happy with everything you’ve accomplished.”  He moves his hand, then, lifts it like he’s going to place it on Soonyoung’s knee, or maybe take one of Soonyoung’s hands in his own.  But he drops it back down and opts for another tiny smile instead.  “Because you’re doing fine too.”

Externally, Soonyoung smiles back.  “I’ll try if you will.”  Internally, he throws a _fit_.  

All that time and effort spent trying not to have a crush, and for what?

  1. God fucking damn it to hell, he really wishes Wonwoo had held his hand.



  
+++

  
The air in the apartment is different once Wonwoo and Soonyoung have made up.

They’re basically acting like they had been before—when things were good, and they weren’t avoiding each other, and Soonyoung wasn’t nagging and Wonwoo wasn’t deliberately being a bad roommate.  But it’s _different_.  Soonyoung doesn’t think it’s him—he’s been trying so, so hard not to let the realization that he has a crush make him freak out again, since he _just_ got done with that nonsense, and he thinks he’s doing alright—on the outside, anyway.  Inside he’s panicking every time Wonwoo looks at him and resisting running for the hills when they casually touch—but, like, in a good way?  Regardless, he really thinks he’s holding it together when it comes to how he actually _acts_ around Wonwoo, so he seriously doesn’t think it’s him.  But there’s something.  It’s warmer, cozier, and maybe it’s just the contrast between how ice cold it had been there for awhile, maybe fighting and making up brought them closer...but Wonwoo seems to _want_ to be around him now, wants to hear about his day and wants to talk before he goes to bed in the mornings no matter how tired he is; sitting next to Soonyoung on the couch, until he decides he needs to lean on his shoulder instead, until he decides he needs to lay with his head in Soonyoung’s lap.  So maybe it’s something.  Soonyoung just hasn’t figured out exactly what.

It’s one of these times, with Soonyoung at one end of the couch and Wonwoo sprawled across the rest of it, that Soonyoung gets brave enough to bring it up—vaguely, anyway.  “You’re _happy_ ,” he says, smiling down at Wonwoo’s head in his lap; Wonwoo’s got his eyes closed, so he doesn’t worry about how fond his face may or may not look.  “Why are you so happy lately?”

“Am I not allowed to be?”

“Of course you are.  I’m just wondering.”

“I don’t know.  I’m sleeping better, maybe that’s it.”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, because that doesn’t seem like the truth, but as he’s about to say so he glances around the apartment and is struck by something suddenly, finding himself completely distracted.  “Oh my god,” he says.  “I totally feel it.”

Wonwoo opens his eyes, raising one eyebrow.  “What?”

“The something that’s off in here.”

“Oh?” Wonwoo says, sitting up.  “Can you tell what it is?”

Still looking around, Soonyoung bites his lip uncertainly.  “I don’t know—it’s exactly like you said, it’s like something is just barely out of whack.”

“It’s weird, right?”

He looks back to Wonwoo.  “Very weird.”

Wonwoo lays back down, then, nestling his head in Soonyoung’s lap again.  “I’m glad you feel it too, though.”

Soonyoung’s just glad Wonwoo’s still talking:  hopefully it’ll distract him from the proximity of his head to Soonyoung’s dick.  “Do you feel less crazy?” he asks, grinning.

“No,” he says, shaking his head minutely.  “I mean, sure.  But I meant, more like...I’m glad we’re on similar wavelengths.”  Fucking Wonwoo.  Does he _ever_ not just _say_ stuff like that like it’s nothing?  “You know?”

In a perfect world, Wonwoo would have his eyes closed and be unable to see Soonyoung’s ears going red.  Unfortunately, he’s just smiling his sleepy little smile, leaving him free to witness the effect he’s having on Soonyoung.  At least you can’t _see_ someone’s heart singing—can’t witness their feelings for you getting stronger, no matter how hard you look or how rapidly it’s happening.  Soonyoung wonders, though, if Wonwoo notices the ears, or how he licks his lips and swallows nervously before answering.  “Yeah.  That’s...important...when you live with someone.”  When he’s said it, he can’t help but smile genuinely down at Wonwoo in his lap, can’t help but keep smiling when he looks away.  If Wonwoo notices, he doesn’t say anything—but he does sigh happily and squirm around on the couch a little until he’s more comfortable.

After a few minutes of Soonyoung scrolling through his phone one-handed, with his other resting on Wonwoo’s stomach, Wonwoo speaks.  “I missed you while we were fighting,” he says suddenly, and Soonyoung looks down at him, one eyebrow raised. “And I’m glad we’re good again.  Maybe that’s why I seem happier.”  The way he says it is so—well, it’s like he says everything.  Matter-of-fact, like it’s no big deal, even when it’s something someone else (Soonyoung) could never spit out.  Unable to stop himself, Soonyoung’s thumb moves subtly back and forth across the tiny area of Wonwoo’s torso it can reach without Soonyoung having to move his whole hand.  “I mean, Seungkwan’s like, my one work friend, and everyone from high school has moved away or sucks now, and the people I met at uni...you know.  So it’s nice to have you back.”  He raises a finger to poke Soonyoung in the forearm.  “ _Roomie_.”

So...yeah.  Something.  Maybe.

  
+++

  
“Can I just say how fucking easy teaching yoga is?”

Soonyoung’s giving a joint lesson to Minghao and Junhui, with Jihoon milling around in the background somewhere.  Jihoon, of course, filled Junhui in on Soonyoung’s _situation_ , because boyfriends keep no secrets, evidently; and Junhui told Minghao, because when it comes to Junhui _no one_ gets to keep secrets.  Naturally, they’ve all been giving their unsolicited advice to Soonyoung for the better part of an hour—although Junhui got bored once Soonyoung shot his down (‘just tell him you want him to rearrange your guts already’ is not Soonyoung’s preferred method of confession,) and has now, apparently, moved on to shitting on Soonyoung’s credentials.

“Excuse you,” Soonyoung says, looking up at Junhui.  “How do you figure?”

From Soonyoung’s other side, Minghao chimes in as well.  “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m paying you for anymore.  I’m gonna start training with Yebin.”

Junhui laughs.  “All you do is tell us to do poses we already know how to do and talk about your lame love life.  I could be a yoga instructor _easy_.”

“First of all, _you_ are the ones who won’t shut the fuck _up_ about my lame love life,” Soonyoung grumbles.  “Second, you _should_ train with Yebin, she’s wonderful.  And probably saner than me right now.”  He scowls at Junhui.  “And no you fucking couldn’t.”

“Could so.  I’m easily as flexible as you.  Maybe more.”

Where to even _begin_ with how flawed that logic is?  “That’s not even—no you’re _not_.”

“Sure I am,” Junhui says, and proceeds to stick his leg behind his head.

Soonyoung turns to Jihoon.  “In my own home, he disrespects me.  Are you seeing this, Jihoon? Get ahold of your man!”

From the kitchen, Jihoon cranes his neck to see what’s going on.  He grins evilly when he sees the position Junhui’s in—both legs are behind his head, now.  “He does a lot of that in our home too.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Minghao and Soonyoung chorus together.  Perhaps Minghao can stay, and the rest of Soonyoung’s friends can choke.

“Regardless,” Soonyoung says, stretching a little so he can be at peak performance.  “You are _not_ more flexible than me, that’s total bullshit.”

He’s in a full side-split as well as a shouting match with Junhui, gesturing wildly to his legs, when he hears Wonwoo’s door open.

The thing about liking someone is that you think they look good even at their worst, and the thing about Wonwoo is that even at his worst, he still looks pretty fucking good anyway.  So as Wonwoo’s standing in his doorway, hair sticking up every which way, baggy, stained t-shirt hanging off his shoulders, dark circles from hell ringing his eyes, and ratty flannel pants that must be three sizes too big—Soonyoung can’t stop a smile from lifting the corners of his lips.  He’s vaguely aware he’s staring at Wonwoo like he hung the moon, and his friends are going to give him endless shit about it in less than a minute...but he absolutely can’t get enough of just-rolled-out-of-bed Wonwoo and he doesn’t feel like looking away anytime soon.

The thing about _that_ , though, is that Wonwoo’s staring back—none of his usual barely awake, bleary-eyed squinting, just a wide-eyed deer in the headlights stare.  Soonyoung wonders why until he remembers he’s in a bit of a strange position.

“Hey, sorry we were yelling—can you please tell Junnie my legs are a straight line and his are still an obtuse angle, though?  We’re in heated competition.”

Wonwoo looks back and forth between them, then down at Soonyoung’s legs.  His mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he actually speaks. “I…” he starts, then shakes his head quickly, looking up at the ceiling.  “It’s—yeah, you’re winning.”

“You barely even looked!”

But he’s already hurrying into the bathroom.  “ _Yes_ I did,” he says over his shoulder.

When the door shuts behind him, Minghao nudges Soonyoung.  “He was blushing!”  Soonyoung’s head snaps toward him.  “Why didn’t you tell us he _liked_ you?”

Junhui smirks.  “You’re welcome.”

Confused, and still a bit dazzled from how Wonwoo’s shirt had exposed more shoulder and collarbone than strictly necessary on one side, Soonyoung turns back to Junhui.  “What?!”  That’s ridiculous.  Soonyoung knows it’s ridiculous, because—it just is.  “He doesn’t _like_ me.”

He’s met with the ominous sight of Junhui grinning, looking altogether self-satisfied.  “Now cutie in there knows you’re stretchy.  Like a sexy little rubber band.”  Junhui gestures to the bathroom door.  “He’s probably jacking off about it as we speak.”

Soonyoung’s ears are burning.  “Shut up.  No—no.”

“I mean, you’re the one who said he’s been clinging all over you in the mornings.  And didn’t you see how flustered he got?”  Junhui’s talking like he’s accepted the idea that Wonwoo likes Soonyoung as truth, but—there’s no way.  They’re friends, good friends, and maybe Wonwoo’s affectionate but that’s because he doesn’t _have_ that many friends.  “That guy wants you and now he’s seen you in a full split.  So, you’re welcome.”

When his house is clear of traitor friends, Soonyoung holes up in his room and silently curses Junhui for putting the image of Wonwoo getting himself off in his head—wonders if it’s too late to become the kind of yogi who’s completely celibate, and has ‘overcome the impulses of lust which arise in the body’ because ‘pleasure gives birth to misery’ or whatever it is the Gita says.

Judging by the fact that he’s halfway to an orgasm and biting the back of his free hand to keep from whining Wonwoo’s name by the time he wonders it—yeah, probably.

  
+++

  
A month goes by and Soonyoung is definitely still suffering, definitely still anxious about the whole crush thing, and definitely terrified of Wonwoo finding out and it ruining their friendship.

But god _damn_ if it isn’t extremely hard to be anything but happy around Wonwoo, regardless of any of that.  

It’s been half a year since Wonwoo and Soonyoung moved in together, and for about half of _that_ , Soonyoung’s been falling harder and harder for Wonwoo—maybe the whole time.  Probably the whole time.  But weirdly enough, he isn’t _completely_ freaking out like he normally would with a crush.  Maybe it’s because they live together, maybe it’s because he’s never sat down and talked out a disagreement with a crush, really, never had that kind of _mature relationship_ , as Yebin would say.  Or maybe it’s just because Wonwoo isn’t like anyone he’s ever had feelings for before.  Wonwoo easily finds a place in Soonyoung’s routine—there are some days, of course, when Wonwoo’s especially worn down, when he still hightails it to bed in a flash, but when he’s feeling good and awake it’s like they’re connected at the hip.  It’s normal now for Wonwoo to send Soonyoung his work schedule so he knows in advance when to expect him, and if they’ll have time for dinner, or grocery shopping, or when they can go out for drinks—though lately Wonwoo’s manager has taken to changing his shifts last minute.  The crazy thing is, Soonyoung doesn’t even mind.  He’s willing to overlook practically anything for Wonwoo, it seems—bad diet, occasional weird house habits, rearranging his cupboards, non-consistent schedule—all of it comes second to how it only takes Wonwoo’s stupid bedhead to brighten Soonyoung’s evening; only takes his exhausted smiles in the morning to make him look forward to his day.

He hasn’t reached the point yet of being sad Wonwoo doesn’t like him back—he’s hoping maybe he’ll get over him before that becomes an issue.  All his clients and coworkers, of course, keep assuring him that from everything they’ve seen or heard, Wonwoo _does_ like him back, but Soonyoung can’t let himself believe that in case they’re wrong.  What they have as friends and as roommates is too good to mess up.  Soonyoung’s been rejected plenty, had his crushes turn out bad _plenty_ —he could handle that, he could move past it.  But if Wonwoo couldn’t, if it caused him to lose Wonwoo completely...he thinks it would break his heart.

Soonyoung loses track of time one night, taking a long bath and thinking about Wonwoo and then _thinking_ about Wonwoo (bad, x-rated thoughts, but he’s long since given up on trying to ignore them—let alone trying not to act on them.)  When he’s out and dressed, he glances at the time and it’s already 10:30—but he can hear the buttons of whichever controller for whichever game Wonwoo’s playing clicking away on the other side of the wall.  

He doesn’t want to bother him—he’s very careful about it, because while Wonwoo’s clingy and affectionate now, he _is_ still an odd duck and definitely values his time alone, and the past week or so he’s wanted to be alone more often than not—but he’s 100% sure Wonwoo worked tonight, so he texts him.

 

_ <  did they change your schedule? _

_>  Nah, I called in_

_<  are you sick :(_

_>  Nope work has just been awful lately and I’m not dealing with it tonight_  
_ >  I’m already off tomorrow so I thought maybe I’d just...have an impromptu weekend_  
_ >  You should come visit me_  
_>  Bring candy or something_

_<  well first of all.  you have to stop texting me from your bedroom_  
_ <  telling me “bring candy” _

_>  YOU TEXTED /ME/_

_<  second how long have you been awake??  how about an apple_

_>  Soooonnnyyooouuunnnnngggggg_  
_ >  Candy!!!!!!!!!! _

  
  
And it’s been weeks since he’s been able to refuse Wonwoo anything, so he sighs, smiling, and scurries into the kitchen.

He opens Wonwoo’s door to find him snuggled in bed, apparently finished with his game.  “Okay, so you have twizzlers and sweetarts, but I couldn’t find any chocolate—”

“Ah,” Wonwoo says, sitting up and then bending down to reach under his bed.  “I started keeping my stash in here when you wouldn’t stop bitching at me.” He pulls out a frankly quite horrific box _filled_ to the brim with a million different chocolates.

Soonyoung makes a face.  “You have a problem.”

Turns out, though, that it’s Soonyoung who has the problem:  no sooner than he finishes speaking, Wonwoo lifts up his comforter and pats the bed beside him.  “What,” he says eloquently, and Wonwoo just pats the bed again.  “...You...want me to get in your bed and eat candy with you?”  This is certainly new.  “You are so weird,” Soonyoung says weakly, but he kicks off his slippers and climbs in next to Wonwoo anyway.  When he does, he sinks probably six full inches into Wonwoo’s mattress. “Jesus, Wonwoo, this bed is even more terrible than I imagined.”  (And he’s definitely imagined it.) “No wonder your back is so out of whack all the time.”

“It’s _soft_.  I _like_ soft things.”  He pokes Soonyoung’s arm as he says it, and Soonyoung would maybe have tried to connect those dots had he not been focusing so hard on _not_ focusing on the fact that he’s in Wonwoo’s bed.  “Not everyone wants to sleep on a bed of nails.”

“I do not sleep on a bed of nails, I sleep on a perfectly reasonable mattress—“  Wonwoo’s phone _ding_ s about seven times in quick succession.  “Who’s texting you that much?”

Wonwoo looks down, giving his full attention to unwrapping a Hershey’s kiss.  “Juho brought a girl home and now my parents won’t stop blowing up our family group message about how great she is…I hate my sister for teaching them _phones_.”  He looks up, pouting a little, and offers Soonyoung the chocolate.

Only a little reluctantly, Soonyoung takes it.  “Is that why we’re in here?  Besides work being bad?”

“You...could say that that is a contributing factor.”  Soonyoung snickers a little.  “Although I really—just, I’m so over being worried about what my parents think.  I wish I could stop.  I know they think I’m wasting my life and maybe they’re not too far off…” He settles back against his pillow again, adjusting the covers.  “But it’s not like I can snap my fingers and have a fucking career and a life partner and a baby, you know.  They’re going to have to deal with me trailing behind the other two for awhile longer.”

He could snap his fingers and have the life partner thing locked down, as far as Soonyoung’s concerned.  

Soonyoung turns, leaning on one elbow and facing Wonwoo.  “The Gita says it’s better to live your own life imperfectly than to live a perfect version of what someone else thinks your life should be.”  

“Do you really think that’s true?” Wonwoo asks—it isn’t dismissive or mocking, he’s genuinely asking what Soonyoung thinks.  “I mean, the perfect version of what my parents think my life should be is pretty fucking good.”

“Sure, but you shouldn’t hold your actual self to that standard.  Like, you _can’t_ , or you’ll go insane, you know?  You have to do what’s right for you and that can mean a lot of different things.  It’s not as simple as this thing is wrong and this thing is right.  Every choice you could ever make has pros and cons...so, yeah.  I think it’s true.”

Wonwoo smiles this small, incredulous smile and shakes his head.  “God, I don’t know why I don’t carry you around with me all the time to like, whisper self-affirmations in my ear.  Jesus.”

After the initial shock of being in Wonwoo’s bed, Soonyoung can’t help but let himself get comfortable—especially with Wonwoo saying such cute things.  “I’m gonna have to start charging you soon.  Whispering self-affirmations is _actually_ a cornerstone of my career.”

“I think if everyone had someone like you in their life no one would even need yoga.”

Soonyoung’s heart swells one thousand sizes, probably, at the idea of being _that_ to Wonwoo.  He almost can’t speak, for a second, and honestly kind of wants to cry.  It’s been a long time since he’s been made to feel that good about what he does—about himself.  He exhales a shaky laugh, but Wonwoo’s looking at him like he knows _exactly_ what he said and the effect it’s had.  Saying thank you, though, or acknowledging how meaningful it was—Soonyoung can’t bring himself to do that, because he’s afraid if he gets started talking about how great Wonwoo is he won’t be able to stop and he’ll end up saying something he doesn’t want to say.  “Good thing I’m one of a kind, then.  I do need to make a living.” He can tell his ears have gone red as sin and hopes, for the millionth time, that Wonwoo doesn’t see.

“Anyway.  What’s your favorite movie?”

Clearing his throat and then pausing to look away from Wonwoo, Soonyoung answers daintily:  “The Princess Diaries.”

Dead silence, for a moment, before Wonwoo bursts out laughing.  “No, no, no it’s not,” he forces out.

“Shut up!  It’s amazing, and Anne Hathaway is the only woman I would ever have sex with.”  He sulks for a second, but he has to laugh along with Wonwoo when he’s laughing his scrunched up nose laugh, he absolutely has to.  Still, he has to tell him off a _little_.  “Don’t _laugh_ at me, or I’m abandoning you in bed with your candy.  And I think if this isn’t a fun sleepover it just becomes pathetic.”

“I’m not laughing _at_ you, I’m laughing because you’re funny and I can’t believe how cute that is.”  Soonyoung _knows_ he makes some kind of horribly pained expression at that, because Wonwoo has to press his lips together to keep from laughing again.  “Please don’t leave.  I wanna watch some fucking Princess Diaries.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course.”

So Wonwoo sets up the movie and turns off the lights in his room (oh) and snuggles up close to Soonyoung like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t make Soonyoung nearly hyperventilate.  No meditation or yoga technique can help him now, he thinks, as Wonwoo’s head rests on his shoulder, _in Wonwoo’s fucking bed_.  They watch in silence, munching on their snacks, and eventually Soonyoung even manages to pay more attention to the movie than to Wonwoo’s hair tickling his ear.  Until he realizes he’s leant his cheek on Wonwoo’s head, at least; then he’s stuck in an awful limbo of deciding what the fuck to do about that—lean back up and awkwardly clear his throat?  Stay there because Wonwoo’s hair smells like coconut again?  How is that even possible, by the way, Soonyoung’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen Wonwoo shower in at least a week…

And that’s the last thing he remembers thinking before he drifts off to sleep, maybe halfway through the movie, cheek still very much resting against Wonwoo’s head.

He wakes up to a phone alarm—not his own, and when he opens his eyes it’s still dark in the room.

“Are you awake?” Wonwoo’s murmuring, and Soonyoung squeezes his eyes shut.

“No.  Make your phone stop,” he whines.

A sharp poke in his side.  “Not until you wake up and wish me happy birthday.”

“What?” Soonyoung asks groggily—then he’s suddenly wide awake, and he sits up as quick as he can untangle himself from Wonwoo—untangle himself because Wonwoo had had his arm slung over Soonyoung’s stomach and apparently at some point before he fell asleep he’d gotten his own arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders.  “What?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Wonwoo shrugs.  “It wasn’t my birthday yet.”

“Fuck off, this is terrible!  I don’t have anything for you!” Soonyoung cries, shoving at Wonwoo’s shoulder lightly.  “And why are we watching _my_ favorite movie if it’s _your_ birthday?”

“Would you have _wanted_ to watch Suspiria?” Wonwoo asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Soonyoung doesn’t know what that is, but he crosses his arms and sticks his nose in the air regardless.  “I would have, for your birthday.”

The laptop is still the only light in the room, so Soonyoung can barely see Wonwoo’s ecstatic, appreciative smile, but it’s there.  “Well, thank you.  But you don’t need to make a big deal, or do anything.  Seriously.  I just wanted to not go to work, and...uh, not be alone.”

Itching to reach out and gather Wonwoo up into his arms, Soonyoung has to clasp his hands together in his lap to keep his composure.  “Do you want to do something tomorrow, then?” he asks, voice smaller than he meant it to be.

“I dunno.  Maybe I’ll take a nap.”

Soonyoung deadpans.  “Your birthday plans can’t be a fucking _nap_ , Wonwoo.”

“And why not?  If it’s what I want to do?”  Wonwoo pulls an uppity face.  “It’s better to have my imperfect birthday than to have the perfect birthday someone else wants for me, right?”

_Offensive_.  Soonyoung bristles in mock anger.  “How _dare_ you use the Gita against me?!”  Wonwoo’s cackling away, nose wrinkling up in amusement.  Maybe Soonyoung would be annoyed at how fucking cute it is if he didn’t feel so happy.

“Look, I still owe you from the headphones, you can’t give me some birthday extravaganza or I’ll owe you even more.”

“You don’t owe me from the headphones, I owed _you_ from being an asshole.  And you wouldn’t owe me from your _birthday_ , dummy.”

Wonwoo lays down again, stretching, before turning onto his stomach and resting his head on his arms, looking up at Soonyoung contently.  “Tell me yours anyway, so I can start planning.”

“It was last month.  You slept through it.”

His face falls dramatically, and Soonyoung snickers at him.  “Well, fuck,” he grumbles.  “Worst roommate.”

“Nah, still best.  This just means you have plenty of time to plan something spectacular,” he says seriously, pointing a finger at Wonwoo’s face, which Wonwoo bares his teeth at as if he’s going to bite it.  Soonyoung jerks it away, scowling for just a second before his expression softens.  “Happy birthday.”

With a silent, shy smile, Wonwoo turns and starts the movie up again.

 

This time, it’s not an alarm Soonyoung wakes up to:  it’s Wonwoo’s hushed voice and a hand on his shoulder.  “Soonyoung,” Wonwoo’s voice is saying.  “It’s almost sunrise.”

Still boneless and slow, Soonyoung blinks at Wonwoo and yawns.  “I…” He takes another moment to get his bearings.  Wonwoo’s bed is so warm and—he slept in Wonwoo’s bed.  Jesus.  He starts to panic, a little, but Wonwoo’s stupid plush bed is forcing him to calm down.  He meets Wonwoo’s eyes.  “Did you wake up just to wake me up?”

Wonwoo wrinkles his nose.  “Nocturnal, remember?  Haven’t slept.  But I figured you didn’t have your alarm set.  And, you know.  No natural light in here.” There’s a book on the bed next to Wonwoo’s legs, which apparently he’d been reading by the light of his too-dim bedside lamp—add it to the list of bad habits Soonyoung would be trying to break anyone else of, but just finds endearing on Wonwoo.  “Good morning.”

“Hi.”  They smile at each other for a few slow seconds.  “So.  Are you planning to get out of bed at all today?”

“Not for a very long time.  I’ll probably fall asleep soon.”

“And when you do get up?”

“Hm.  Eat dinner, I guess.”

Soonyoung brightens immediately.  “Oh!” he exclaims, making Wonwoo jump a little at the sudden volume.  “Oh, Wonwoo, please let me cook.” Wonwoo gives him a skeptical glance.  “It’ll be good, it’ll be the least healthy thing I’ve ever made, I swear.”

Still unsure (though some of that may be just to mess with Soonyoung,) Wonwoo nods.  “Alright, I trust you.  I _guess_.”  Soonyoung shimmies a little in excitement.  “Now, get after it, roomie, or you’re gonna miss the sun.”

God.  Wonwoo probably had to look up what time sunrise was to know what time to wake Soonyoung up.  The fact that Wonwoo knows him this well and _cares_ about him this much makes something in his heart rev up and eventually catch fire.  He can’t bring himself to move, and remains just watching Wonwoo, who has by this point buried his nose in his book again.  Burrowing deeper into Wonwoo’s comforter until only his eyes and the top of his head poke out from beneath it, Soonyoung lets his eyes roam, taking in Wonwoo’s long fingers turning the page of his book, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way he scrunches his nose a few times before finally reaching up to scratch it.  Traitorously, his mind conjures the idea of sitting up and just waiting for Wonwoo to look up at him; when he did, Soonyoung would rest his hands on either side of Wonwoo’s face and lean in close and cover his lips with his own.  Quiet and soft and sweet, just like Wonwoo himself.

“Soonyoung?”  

Oops.  Soonyoung retreats further beneath the blankets but Wonwoo, to his horror, adjusts his position to get himself under them too, his face terrifyingly close to Soonyoung’s when he appears.

“What are you doing,” Wonwoo whispers.

Soonyoung swallows.  “Hiding.”

“Why?  I’m the only one here,” he says with a grin.  Soonyoung worries his lip, knowing at least some of what he’s feeling is showing on his face.  Wonwoo’s bright smile dims just a bit.  “Soonyoung?” He imagines just pushing himself the few inches forward to kiss Wonwoo, like it’s nothing, just to _see_ , but he can’t bring himself to.

He’s staring at Wonwoo’s mouth, though.

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo murmurs, and then Soonyoung feels a hand on his arm.

A little frantically, he sits up and throws the blanket off of them before scrambling out of bed.  “Gotta go, later,” he spits out, plastering a smile on his face and backing out of the room.

He showers in cold water until his lips are blue, and heads to the studio three hours early.

When he’s done teaching his classes and he’s done absolutely every other bit of spare work they have for him, he retreats to the staff locker room to shower and change, and (mostly) to whine at the other instructors.

“Yebin,” he’s saying.  “ _Yebin_ , I like him so much.  And now—” He cuts himself off with a pathetic little sob.  “I think he _knows._ ”

Yebin laughs, because she’s heard about this as much as everyone else Soonyoung works with, which is to say:  a lot. “Sweetie, you’re going to have to stop whining to me about it eventually and just do something about it.”

“He’s not only whining at you,” Mingyu says darkly.  “Believe me, it’s everyone in a hundred mile radius.  At least he’s probably spared you the torrid details of his wank sessions, since you’re a lady.”

“Well, I’m a lady too,” says Nayoung, “and I have _not_ been spared.”

Soonyoung finishes changing and straightens up to his full height.  “I hate all of you.”

“Just _tell him_ ,” Yebin growls, grabbing Soonyoung by the shoulders and shaking him.  “He likes you too!”

“You don’t know that,” Soonyoung says.  “But we did snuggle last night.”

When he looks up, everyone’s staring at him.  “You’re hopeless,” Mingyu says, turning and leaving.

“Either way, okay, it’s his birthday, and I can’t tell him on his _birthday.”_  He chews on his thumbnail nervously.  “I’m not gonna risk making things awkward on his birthday.  What kind of friend would I be?”

Yebin gets this exasperated smile on her face, and reaches up to pat one of his cheeks.  “Soonyoung, you’re sweet.  But you’re blind.”

Jihoon had said the same thing how long ago now?  And he’d been right.  If he could be blind to his own feelings...maybe he could be blind to Wonwoo’s?

He doesn’t know.  He has no idea.  All he knows is he’s going to make Wonwoo a nice dinner and buy him a huge deadly chocolate cake and give him the non-stressful birthday he deserves.

At the store on his way home, as he’s painstakingly choosing ingredients that aren’t _too_ healthy, but won’t send Wonwoo to an early grave, he freezes in place, realization hitting him.

  1. He’s never done anything like this for anyone—and if he has, it hasn’t seemed nearly this important.
  2. He really, _really_ likes Wonwoo, enough that he’s infiltrated just about every aspect of Soonyoung’s life:   just _seeing_ chocolate makes him smile to himself; when he has to give a massage at work he spends the whole time remembering Wonwoo’s skin; he can probably _never_ watch The Princess Diaries the same way.
  3. He really, _really_ wants Wonwoo to like him back, enough that trying to figure out if he does or not makes him sick to his stomach—in a good way.
  4. He’s _nervous_.  He has a feeling all of a sudden, a _big_ one.  Something’s going to happen tonight, he can tell.



  
When he gets home, he listens at Wonwoo’s door for a second, then peeks inside.  Nothing but a Wonwoo-shaped-lump tangled in the bedcovers.  “Wonwoo,” he hisses. “ _Wonwoo._ ”

The lump moves.  “Mmph,” it says.

Soonyoung leans against the doorframe.  “Wake up!” he says gently, trying not to smile even though Wonwoo’s definitely not looking.  “But stay in here until I come get you!  Don’t go wandering around and ruin your surprise, okay?”

“Rnghf,” the lump replies.

So Soonyoung sets to work getting things ready.  He cooks pasta, loading it up with bacon and chicken and salt and butter and anything else he can think of that’s going to make him regret his life choices by the end of the meal (but will make Wonwoo smile Soonyoung’s favorite smile, hopefully.)  He pours the ten dollar wine he’d got, and finally, the most important step: he strings fairy lights across not just the kitchen, but the living room as well.

Actually, the most important step is running into his room and changing his clothes fifteen times trying to make sure he looks good, but not like he’s trying too hard, because that would be weird, and he doesn’t want this to be weird—he wants it to be perfect.

When he’s satisfied, he knocks on Wonwoo’s door.  Wonwoo answers, actually dressed ( _actually_ dressed, and not his usual off-work attire of t-shirt and sweats,) and starts to smile at Soonyoung before the lights catch his eye and distract him.  “Uh?”

Soonyoung smiles.  “This,” he says, meandering backwards toward the kitchen and gesturing around the apartment, “is officially not real life.  You have no responsibilities, no shitty job, nothing to worry about.  You get to eat this terrible meal I cooked and drink some cheap wine and have cake.”  Wonwoo’s eyebrows are raised, taking everything in, and then he looks back at Soonyoung.  “Welcome to your birthday.”

“It smells amazing in here,” Wonwoo says—then he points toward the ceiling.  “Why the lights?”

Trying not to blush too hard from embarrassment and nerves and just, the fact that Wonwoo wore real clothes, Soonyoung answers.  “All the nice rooms on the internet have fairy lights.  And...because it’s fun and pretty and magical.”  He leads Wonwoo into the kitchen and keeps talking, nerves not letting him shut up.  “I had glowy stars on my ceiling when I lived with Jihoon.  He always laughed—not to be mean, he just didn’t get it, I guess he thought it was immature or something.  But you know? I think it’s nice to just have...even just one dumb thing that you can look at and think maybe things don’t have to be so goddamn serious all the goddamn time.”  He realizes then that he’s rambling, and about his own weird insecurities no less.  “But that’s real life!  And this isn’t real life.  So they’re here because they’re pretty.”  In response, Wonwoo flashes him a wide smile.  “You look nice,” Soonyoung mumbles, smiling bashfully.

Wonwoo wrinkles his nose.  “Well, apparently it’s a special occasion.”

He’d let himself get nervous, but once they’ve sat down and started eating he can’t even remember why.  Something to do with last night feeling like some weird liminal space anomaly, no doubt, but he should have remembered how easy it is to be with Wonwoo.  If he doesn’t think about the predicament he’s in, it’s so easy to fall into quiet conversation with him, to laugh with him, to listen in rapt attention when he actually talks at length.  Of course, when Wonwoo does talk at length, or laugh, Soonyoung immediately thinks about the predicament he’s in, because it’s those moments he likes Wonwoo best—when he’s happy, when he’s comfortable, and the fact that Wonwoo can be happy and comfortable around Soonyoung makes his chest flutter.  Even so, the nervousness fades.  It’s nice.  It’s—really, really nice, and suddenly Soonyoung isn’t sure if he can make it another night without telling Wonwoo how he feels—it terrifies him, still, but he thinks he might burst, doesn’t know if he can hold it in.

When Wonwoo blows out his birthday candles, Soonyoung makes a wish too, so maybe he misses the look Wonwoo shoots him just before it happens.

By the time Wonwoo’s on his second piece of cake, they’ve moved to the couch.  Halfway through his third, he looks up from his fork with a bemused expression coloring his features.  “You know, I wanted to be a pastry chef.”

Soonyoung smiles.  “What?”

“I just remembered.  When I was in high school I—I wanted to be a pastry chef.  I took a cooking class after school and everything.  Huh.”  Wonwoo laughs, looking mildly shocked.  “I think I had a dream and I—I _forgot_.  How sad is that?  I could have had a thing, like you have yoga.”

A parade of exclamation points marches through Soonyoung’s brain.  Baby Wonwoo, _baking_.  That’s criminally adorable.  He’s sitting sideways on the couch, facing Wonwoo with his knees drawn up to his chest, so he pointedly nudges Wonwoo’s leg with one socked foot.  “You should do it.”

Wonwoo scoffs.  “Yeah.  Let me just get on that.”

“I’m serious!”  Soonyoung leans forward, earnest and excited, and pokes at Wonwoo’s arm instead, insistently.  “You already cook for a living.  Why can’t you?”

“You have to go to school.  I don’t have time.  I don’t even have the time to learn anything on my own.  Or the energy.”

Pouting, Soonyoung sits back and chews on his lip.  “What made you remember?”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo says, with a shrug and a small smile.  “I was a history major in uni. It’s not even that I don’t like history, I actually _really_ like history.  But I didn’t want to…”  He trails off, lost in thought, and after a moment looks back at Soonyoung.  “I mean, really, what was I going to do with that?  It wasn’t what I wanted to _do.”_

Soonyoung gestures around the room, for emphasis.  “So go do what you want to do!”

Wonwoo shrugs again.  “Even if it was that easy...”  He wrinkles up his nose and shakes his head.  “I doubt I’d be able to.”

“Why?”  He wants to smack Wonwoo, or get in his face and tell him to snap out of it—that it doesn’t matter what he’s doing now, he could always do something else, and there’s no reason for him to feel like he can’t.  Wonwoo doesn’t reply, so Soonyoung keeps going, keeps his eyes trained on Wonwoo’s face even though Wonwoo’s looking down at his plate.  “There’s this word in Sanskrit.  Avidya.  It’s like...you know how there’s the you that you are inside, when you’re alone, or whenever you feel the most like yourself?  And then there’s the you that you are when you have to be around people, or go to a shitty job.”  Wonwoo looks up, listening carefully the way he always does when Soonyoung talks about things in his wheelhouse.  “So, avidya is when you think your true, real self _is_ the self you fabricate every day to deal with whatever you have to deal with.  Not that that you is fake, or bad, it’s just not the realest, most _you_ you.  In your case, you think your tired, sad, beat-down fry cook self is your real self, when in actuality your real self is kind and...hilarious, and hard-working, and sweet and bright and resilient.”  Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise, nearly imperceptibly.  Feeling his ears burn, Soonyoung looks away, and stammers forward.  “Or—or, you know, at least, that’s the self you show me...he’s just buried deep inside because work tries to kill your soul.”  He shifts his position so he’s sitting cross-legged and can scooch closer to Wonwoo.  “I wish you could remember it...hasn’t succeeded.  At killing your soul.  Real Wonwoo, he’s…”  Soonyoung pauses, and holds his breath as he hesitantly lets one hand settle on Wonwoo’s arm, near his shoulder—then moves it, unsure, and lightly brushes at Wonwoo’s chest with his knuckles, letting the backs of his fingers linger there.  “You’re still in there.”

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything.  Wonwoo looks at him for a few very long seconds in total silence, until Soonyoung starts wondering if he’s said something wrong, if his advice has finally crossed a line or he’s offended Wonwoo somehow.  Sheepishly, reluctantly, Soonyong pulls his hand away.

Then Wonwoo sits up and puts his cake down on the coffee table.  “How—” he starts, but cuts himself off.  Almost frantically, Wonwoo huffs, shakes his head, and turns himself so he’s facing Soonyoung, looking him straight in the eyes, their knees brushing.  “How is it,” he starts again, “that every time I feel the most alone, and the most out of place, you manage to understand?”

Because he does understand.  Because he’s watched Wonwoo since they moved in together and gotten to know him and made an effort to understand him and he doesn’t _want_ him to feel this way.  “Because...you aren’t alone or out of place.”  Soonyoung wants to look away, because he’s kind of baring his soul, but also—it’s so simple.  It’s the truth.  So he just shrugs.  “You’re here.  With me.”

It only takes a second for Wonwoo’s eyebrows to knit together and his mouth to fall open, just a little.  He looks down, eyes closed, and then smiles, exhaling this half sigh, half laugh into the space between them.  When he looks up he’s got resolve sparkling in his eyes. “This isn’t real life, right?”

Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow.  “Right...”

“So if I say something stupid or...if I do something stupid...we can just forget it ever happened?”

Oh god.  Here it comes, whatever it is.  Soonyoung looks shiftily to the left, and then to the right.  “Okay?”

“Okay,” Wonwoo repeats.  He pauses again, and his tongue pokes out to wet his lips—wait.  Wait.  Soonyoung’s brain works to catch up and it’s almost, _almost_ clicked into place, but Wonwoo is faster.  “I really want to kiss you, Soonyoung,” he whispers.

Soonyoung’s gut feeling, somehow, did not prepare him for this.  

His gut feeling also does not stop the strangled noise he makes in the back of his throat, doesn’t stop him from flushing from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest in an instant.  He looks down at Wonwoo’s mouth and then back to his eyes as his breath goes shaky and his heartbeat speeds up and he swallows, hard. “Oh my god, _what_ ,” he chokes out weakly.

Wonwoo smiles, nervous.  “Yeah,” he says, looking down.  “I’m...a little bit crazy about you and if I don’t kiss you right now I think I might die.”  Soonyoung’s eyebrows raise impossibly high. “You, um...you do like me, right?”

Slowly, minutely, Soonyoung nods.  “Yeah?” he breathes, still processing, watching as after a second Wonwoo’s smile gets wider—still soft, but now there’s just a trace of excitement.  

“I’m definitely gonna kiss you, then.”

Soonyoung exhales hard, apparently having lost control of his lungs, as Wonwoo inches toward him.  Even though he leans in slow, it’s nowhere near enough time for Soonyoung to make sense of this or wrap his head around it at all.  He feels one of Wonwoo’s hands brush his hair back and he shivers; he wants to laugh because he doesn’t know what else to do and this is _completely ridiculous_.

And then Wonwoo kisses him, and it doesn’t matter.

Though he’s gotten more used to being physically close to Wonwoo over the past couple of months, _extra_ close proximity has still made him panic a little, and every now and then he’s still felt like running away when Wonwoo flashed him a smile or said something sweet.  Kissing Wonwoo, on the other hand, makes every last ounce of anxiety melt away—Soonyoung knows he should be freaking out, if his past experiences are anything to go on, and he _had_ been freaking out a matter of seconds ago, but now he’s just _happy_.  The sweetness of Wonwoo’s mouth has pushed everything else aside: he doesn’t feel nervous.  He’s not on edge.  He doesn’t feel like the moment is brittle and could shatter at any second, and he’s not worried Wonwoo will come to his senses and push him away.  In fact, he thinks he’ll renounce yoga for good and advise that everyone should just kiss Wonwoo to relieve stress from now on—except, clearly, they can’t, because Wonwoo’s lips are occupied and Soonyoung has no plans of vacating.  Wonwoo has one hand on Soonyoung’s cheek, the tips of his fingers reaching back into his hair, and his lips are so soft, and it just feels so _comfortable_ —cozy, Soonyoung thinks, even Wonwoo’s _kisses_ are cozy.  Soonyoung finally finds the courage to move, and blindly reaches for Wonwoo’s free hand, intertwining their fingers when he finds it.

When Wonwoo pulls back, just a fraction, Soonyoung blinks slowly, still staring dazed at his lips.  “Are you only kissing me because this isn’t real life,” he whispers, and then he moves back a little more so he can see Wonwoo’s reaction, squinting curiously.  Wonwoo’s hand falls from Soonyoung’s cheek to his shoulder and then his nose scrunches up.

“No.”  His cheeks are flushed pink and he clears his throat quietly.  “I want to kiss you in real life too.  A lot,” he sighs, lifting Soonyoung’s hand and hesitantly pressing his lips to the back of it.

“You’re weird,” Soonyoung murmurs, staring at his hand and marvelling at the feeling of Wonwoo’s lips on his skin.  “I wasn’t going to do this tonight, you know.  I was afraid of ruining your birthday.  Everyone was telling me to go for it—”

“Everyone?”

“...I mean.  Yeah, everyone kind of knows, but it’s only because I’m really, really obvious...obviously.”  Wonwoo just shrugs, shaking his head.  “Seriously?  You just said you knew!”

Wonwoo’s rubbing Soonyoung’s thumb with his own.  “I didn’t have a clue until last night slash this morning...I thought _I_ was the obvious one.”  

Soonyoung grins.  “Not to me.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo laughs.  “Are we both idiots?”

It’s too much—Wonwoo’s smile this close up is too, too much.  But it’s still not close enough, so instead of answering, Soonyoung just shakes his hand free of Wonwoo’s and grabs his face so he can kiss him again, letting Wonwoo press closer and closer to him, laying back on the couch when he does.  He holds Wonwoo’s face for another few seconds, memorizing the angles of his cheekbones and his jawline, then slides his hands down to his shoulders and circles his arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. All the while Wonwoo’s mouth is moving against his and eventually when Wonwoo has a hand on Soonyoung’s hip and Soonyoung has his hands at the small of Wonwoo’s back but they’ve both stopped, unsure of how far they’re going, Wonwoo pulls away, breaths coming heavy.

“Can I say something really, really inappropriate?”

Soonyoung shifts a little, mostly just wanting Wonwoo’s lips to come back, but intrigued nonetheless.  “I wish you would,” he says breathlessly, smiling, and Wonwoo smiles back.

“So.  I don’t care one way or another, honestly, so no pressure or anything...”  Wonwoo looks down, and then back up, meeting Soonyoung’s eyes. “But the reality of this situation is if we don’t do something explicit _right_ now I don’t know when the next time I’ll be awake enough for it is gonna be.  And I get the impression we’ve both been waiting a while, so…?”

The ridiculousness culminates and Soonyoung does finally laugh then, one loud ‘HA’ right in Wonwoo’s face.  He sits up and grabs his wine from the coffee table, taking a large swig.  “That,” he forces out, pointing at Wonwoo accusingly, “is extremely inappropriate, Jeon Wonwoo.”  Wonwoo’s just grinning away next to him.  Smug bastard.  Still, though…

If he’s offering, then, well.  

“What exactly did you have in mind?” Soonyoung asks, throwing Wonwoo a sidelong glance and taking a much daintier sip of his drink.

“Uh, well,” Wonwoo starts, clearly not having expected the question.  “I’ve kind of been wanting to eat you out for—”

Soonyoung chokes on his wine before Wonwoo can finish his sentence, because _who the fuck just says that shit!!!_  He covers his mouth, coughing, eventually taking a deep breath and willing his lungs and his dick to calm down for a second.  He tries to give Wonwoo a stern look.  Wonwoo’s trying not to smile, pressing his lips together.  “You asked,” he says.

Maybe Soonyoung would have tried to regain the upper hand, but his dick isn’t listening and he already has the beginnings of a hard-on.  So instead, he stares into space for a second, then sighs, nods furiously, and forces out a hurried _right_ _yes let’s go_ before they’re stumbling to his bedroom.

Really, given how much he’s imagined this (a lot) Soonyoung thinks he should have been more _ready_ for how pretty Wonwoo’s soft, pale skin is flushed and bitten red, and how nice his deep voice sounds climbing higher and higher in pitch, but experiencing it in person still renders him speechless—and maybe Soonyoung should have expected Wonwoo to be _vocal_ in bed, given how often he just spits out whatever he’s feeling, but when Wonwoo starts in about how gorgeous Soonyoung is and how amazing things feel and how good Soonyoung’s being for him and how long he’s been waiting for this, he’s pretty sure he never, ever _ever_ could have done _anything_ that _ever_ would have prepared him adequately.

“Shut up shut up shut up, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Soonyoung whines at one point, hands tangled in Wonwoo’s hair, when Wonwoo won’t stop talking when his mouth should really be focused on other things.

Wonwoo’s head raises from between Soonyoung’s thighs.  “I’d say sorry, but...” he says, lips wet and shiny and smirking evilly.

Soonyoung stares at him for a second, then whimpers, then tightens his fingers in Wonwoo’s hair again and unceremoniously shoves his face back down.

  
For the second time, Soonyoung wakes up next to Wonwoo.  No panic, this time, though—no urge to hide, and no Wonwoo waking him up.  He wakes up to the sun this time, his biological clock saving him from the fact that he didn’t set his alarm (as he had been otherwise preoccupied.)  He stretches a little, feeling a satisfying burn in his muscles.  It’s about six, he’d guess, and Wonwoo can sleep forever, so he can’t wait to see him wake up as much as he’d like to.  However, Wonwoo’s brow is furrowing slightly in his sleep, so Soonyoung does reach out to try and gently rub out the tension there.  It works, Wonwoo’s face relaxes, but Soonyoung feels greedy—he runs one finger along Wonwoo’s jawline and Wonwoo stirs, flinching away.

Soonyoung smiles.  “Sorry,” he whispers.  “It’s just me.”

Wonwoo’s eyes open just a crack, then squeeze shut again as he presses his face further into the pillow.  Soonyoung laughs, and moves to get up, but a hand reaches out and grabs his shirt, dragging him back.  “You can’t.”  Wonwoo’s voice is tired and scratchy and extra low, and if Soonyoung hadn’t already been letting himself get pulled back into bed, that would have cinched it.

“But I have to,” Soonyoung whines.  In answer, Wonwoo pulls him closer and kisses him lightly, on the corner of his mouth, and Soonyoung sighs.  “No fair,” he murmurs against Wonwoo’s lips. “I really have to get up.”

Pulling back, Wonwoo cocks one eyebrow at him.  “Do you?”

It’s a little dazzling, seeing Wonwoo like this, and Soonyoung has to take a second before he answers.  Like, kissing Wonwoo was really good, and sex with Wonwoo was really _really_ good, but—waking up next to Wonwoo, Wonwoo practically glowing in the morning sunlight, Wonwoo in _Soonyoung’s bed_ —that’s something else entirely.  “Yeah,” he says, because he does need to get up.  “I have an early lesson.  Have to get ready.”  Wonwoo doesn’t respond at first, just sets his lips to Soonyoung’s throat and hums against his pulse.

“You should probably get up, then.”  He kisses his way down to Soonyoung’s collarbone, then back up to his mouth.

“I really need to.”

“So get up.”

“I’m going to,” he says, but he lets Wonwoo nudge him onto his back and hover over him anyway.  “I have t—ah—”  His eyes fall shut.  Wonwoo has a hand underneath his shirt and this is all still so _new_ that it makes him squirm in anticipation—

He opens his eyes when he hears Wonwoo chuckle quietly under his breath.  “Excuse you.”

Wonwoo just shakes his head lightly in apology.  “Did you know you’re really fucking cute,” he says, leaning in to kiss him again, his fingers moving softly at Soonyoung’s waist.

“Did you know you’re really fucking distracting?”

At this point, the pout Wonwoo shoots his way is just...demonic, and not needed, not when Soonyoung doesn’t have time to kiss or touch it away.  “I just wanna make you come again,” Wonwoo purrs.

Scowling in spite of how much that sentence affects him, Soonyoung wriggles underneath Wonwoo.  “I don’t know if I have any left.”  Honestly, though.  Soonyoung’s never had to fucking tap out of sex before, but Wonwoo just had not _stopped_.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes.  “Don’t get used to it.  That was pure finally-boning-you adrenaline.  My exes used to yell at me for falling asleep during blowjobs, you know.”

“Giving or receiving?” Soonyoung asks, quirking an eyebrow.  Wonwoo doesn’t answer (which Soonyoung guesses probably means both, which manages to endear him to Wonwoo even _more_ somehow,) electing instead to mouth at Soonyoung’s neck some more.

Soonyoung sighs.  “You’re going to be terrible for my productivity,” he says, and Wonwoo raises his head to flash him a wide grin.  Soonyoung admires it for a few seconds before lightly pushing him off and sitting up.  “Rain check?” he murmurs, and Wonwoo’s lips are back on his in a second, like he can’t stand to not be kissing him—Soonyoung doesn’t blame him.  This is the closest he’s ever come to just cancelling all his sessions and calling in to the studio.  “Also I’m fucking _you_ next time.”

Wonwoo fixes him with an impressed stare and bites his lip before looking away, smiling.  “Great.  Now I’ll never get back to sleep.”

Cute.  And at least some semblance of fair, because there’s no way Soonyoung’s ever going to be able to focus today, so why should Wonwoo get to sleep?  He crawls in front of Wonwoo on his way to the other side of the bed, stopping in front of him to sit up on his knees so they’re face to face, leaning in close.  “All my sex stuff is in that bottom drawer,” he says, jerking his head in the direction of his dresser and batting his eyelashes.  “You can help yourself to one of my vibrators.”

For some reason, _that’s_ what gets Wonwoo’s cheeks to go red.  “I...think I’ll just wait until I can have the real thing again,” he says, smiling bashfully.  Soonyoung beams. 

“Good.  Because I was bluffing, I could never leave you alone in here with a vibrator, and I’m already behind schedule.”

He does his morning stretches in silence, vaguely aware of Wonwoo still in his bed behind him, and he assumes Wonwoo must have fallen asleep again until he’s dressed and just about to head out the door.

“Soonyoung,” comes Wonwoo’s voice, heavy with sleep again.  When Soonyoung glances down, Wonwoo’s bundled up in his comforter, gazing dreamily up at him like he’s _almost_ asleep, ninety percent of the way there or so, and Soonyoung’s whole body gets warmer just looking at him.  Cozy.  “...That was a good birthday.”  He gives a small, sleepy sigh, then wrinkles his nose before closing his eyes again.  “Sorry about the hickeys.”

  
+++

  
When Soonyoung comes home to find Wonwoo already awake at only three o’clock, biting his nails in his favorite armchair, he figures something must be wrong.  “Hey,” he says, as he kicks off his shoes.  “Everything okay?”

Wonwoo sighs, so Soonyoung beelines toward him, sitting on the arm of his chair.  He looks up at Soonyoung nervously.  “My brother and sister have been wanting to come over for dinner for a long time and I think I’ve held them off as long as I can,” he mutters, drumming his fingers on his knee.  “They’re both busy a lot so there’s been a few times we planned, and it fell through, and the rest of the time I’ve just...said I had to work...which most of the time was true.” Soonyoung reaches out and takes Wonwoo’s hand in his to stop him fidgeting.  “They’re mad they missed mine and Juho’s birthday...they wanna come this Thursday.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding.  “Yeah, just let me know and I’ll make myself scarce.”  He rubs Wonwoo’s hand between his own comfortingly, but Wonwoo looks up at him in horrified confusion.

“What?  No, weirdo.”  He laughs, incredulously.  “They want to meet you.  Their exact words were ‘can’t wait to meet your roommate.’”  Roommate.  “Also, you _cannot_ leave me alone with them.”

Fair enough.  Roommate, though.  Soonyoung clears his throat, staring down at where their fingers interlock.  “So you...haven’t told them we’re, uh…” He trails off.  They haven’t really talked about this—they’ve been fucking each other speechless all around the apartment for the past two weeks, and they’ve talked about a lot of _other_ things, but it hasn’t really felt necessary yet.  Honestly, Soonyoung’s just been content enjoying whatever it is—enjoying it a _lot_.  And making sure Wonwoo enjoys it.  Many times.  As often as possible.

So no, they haven’t talked about it.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow.  “...Haven’t told them we’re what?”  Soonyoung clamps his mouth shut and flushes red, regretting bringing it up.  “No, no, haven’t told them we’re what?” Wonwoo teases, poking Soonyoung’s side, and then his cheek.

So Soonyoung huffs, because he obviously doesn’t know either, and wagers a guess.  “...Sex...friends?  Kiss, uh, kiss mates…” Wonwoo’s eyes go wide and he immediately dissolves into giggles.  “Fuck you, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung whines as Wonwoo gasps for breath, his whole face scrunched up in laughter, “we haven’t _talked_ and—I don’t know what you want to be and I don’t want to assume anything!”

“ _Kissmates?_ ” Wonwoo chokes finally, once he can get a word out between fits of laughter.  

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung admonishes, letting go of Wonwoo’s hand and crossing his arms, turning to face away from him.  

“Sorry, sorry...oh my god, _kissmates_ ,” he wheezes one last time.  Then Soonyoung feels his hands at his shoulders.  “Come back, please?” he asks, voice sweet in Soonyoung’s ear—so Soonyoung turns around, lets Wonwoo leave kisses on his cheeks and across his nose.  “I haven’t told them.  Yet.  _Yet_ ,” Wonwoo repeats, firmer, noticing the uncertainty in Soonyoung’s eyes.

Soonyoung hesitates for a second, then slinks down into the chair with Wonwoo, half on his lap.  “Is this weird?” he asks faintly. “Us living together and...doing this?”

“No.  I mean, probably?  Maybe.  I don’t know.”  He has his arms looped around Soonyoung’s waist, and Soonyoung feels...safe, despite the uncertainty.  “Didn’t you ever hear it’s better to live with someone before you marry them so you know what you’re getting into, though?  We’re just doing that, but up to eleven.  I mean, our first fight is out of the way.  We already know all of each other’s worst habits.  We’re doing okay, I think.  And I’m…”—he runs one hand up and down Soonyoung’s side and lowers his gaze—“having a really good time.”

Tilting Wonwoo’s chin back up, Soonyoung nods.  “Me too...but…” His anxiety’s kicking up a little, now, and he tries to quiet it.  “What if it _gets_ weird, or something?  I mean...we do _live together_.”

“Well, we just don’t let it get weird,” Wonwoo says, as if it’s that simple.

“I just think...if at any point we realize it isn’t working, and there’s nothing we can do, we should agree to stop, no hard feelings, and continue living together as normal,” Soonyoung says, seriously, and Wonwoo blinks.  “I mean, if it was awkward or something it...wouldn’t be that hard to avoid each other, really, until it wasn’t as awkward, right?”

“Okay…” Wonwoo says, slowly.  “So... _worst_ case scenario...that.”  

Soonyoung looks down, embarrassed.  “Sorry.  I just...I need to have a plan.  In case.”  It’s the convergence of a potential _relationship_ plus the fact that it could make his living arrangement tense plus the fact that it’s Wonwoo and he doesn’t want to lose Wonwoo, ever, making him this paranoid about it, he thinks, and he hopes Wonwoo understands, or at least doesn’t think he’s crazy.

All Wonwoo says, though, is:  “What about if it does work?”

God, Soonyoung really wants it to work.  He smiles.  “I guess it depends what we’re even trying.”

“Well, I already told you I’m crazy about you,” Wonwoo says, pulling Soonyoung properly into his lap.  “So while I think kissmates is an absolutely revolutionary term, if you wanted to be something slightly more...concrete…”  He gives Soonyoung’s hip a squeeze.  “I would be okay with that.”

Soonyoung nods in response.  “Um, I.  Yeah.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, smiling, and grabs Soonyoung’s face, holding it close to his.  “I want to date you.  Do you want to date me?” he asks, exaggerated and loud.

He has a feeling Wonwoo’s not going to let him get away with a nod, so, reluctantly, he answers.  “I want to date you,” he mumbles, feeling his ears heat up and looking away.  Wonwoo starts laughing.

“Oh my god, you can choke on my dick but you can barely say you want to date me,” Wonwoo crows, and Soonyoung practically chokes _then_.  “I even said it first, why are you embarrassed?!” he exclaims as Soonyoung covers his face and shakes his head.  “Shouldn’t you be all in tune with your emotions, yoga boy?”

Behind his fingers, Soonyoung’s smiling despite himself.  “I like you _so much_ ,” he whines, muffled through his hands.  He feels Wonwoo grab his wrists and lets him pull his hands down.  “It really threw a wrench in my emotional stability.  And then you liked me back?!  Which sent things _completely_ off the rails.”  He pouts, and Wonwoo laughs again.  “You shouldn’t laugh.  I’ve been a mess ever since—well—”  This is one thing Soonyoung’s never actually confirmed for Wonwoo.  “The incident.”

“The incident,” Wonwoo repeats, bemused.

“Yeah...you know.”  He drops his voice to a whisper.  “The _incident_.”  He taps at Wonwoo’s chest with one finger.

Wonwoo looks down at his own body in utter confusion, then back up at Soonyoung—and that’s when the realization hits.  His jaw actually drops.  “Are you fucking serious?  Oh, oh my god, wait.”  Soonyoung’s already shaking his head frantically, repeating _no no no no no_ as he tries to shush him and kiss him quiet, but Wonwoo holds him back, laughing.  “You’re telling me the reason there was so much bad juju in here for awhile was you were having some kind of crisis about seeing me shirtless?  And _that_ was your preferred method of handling it?!”  Soonyoung hides his face in the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, still shaking his head.  “You said you were dealing with ‘ _personal shit—’”_

“I _was_ , Wonwoo!”  Soonyoung sits up straight again—he at least has to _try_ to defend himself.  “It...I…it just happened to be you,” he says, biting his lip, embarrassed even though Wonwoo doesn’t seem angry at all.  “I’m sorry, I know it was stupid, at the time I really did not see _this_ happening so I was trying to...make myself not like you.”  Wonwoo’s expression softens.  “I didn’t do a very good job.”

It doesn’t seem to matter, in any case, because Wonwoo’s sighing “God, you’re so fucking cute, come here,” and pulling Soonyoung against him so he can kiss him.  “I’m glad it didn’t work.”

“It couldn’t have.  It was already too late.”

It’s a small admission, but it still makes Wonwoo cup Soonyoung’s cheek, then find both of Soonyoung’s hands with his own, lacing their fingers together.  “Well,” he says, practically whispering.  “Boyfriends, I guess?”

Soonyoung’s grin is uncontrollable.  “Boyfriends,” he says, trying and failing tremendously not to give away how giddy he is, and shifts until he’s straddling Wonwoo.  “I just wanted to know.  We don’t _have_ to tell them yet.”

“Okay, because it’ll really be in your best interests—we can tell them at the end, like, as we’re shoving them out the door?  Otherwise they’re gonna ask you stuff and probably tell embarrassing stories about me and make it a _thing_.  It’s gonna be weird enough without that, trust me.”  Wonwoo pauses, staring at a spot somewhere behind Soonyoung on the floor.  “I’m kind of really nervous about it.”

“Why?”

“Just am.  They don’t _do_ anything, they just…”  Distractedly, he glances around the room and lets go of one of Soonyoung’s hands to push his hair back.  “I don’t know. I haven’t felt like they understood me in a long time.”

Soonyoung wonders if he’s tried _letting_ them understand him, but doesn’t say that—he knows how it is to feel one way and have no one get it.  Still, though the default side he takes is Wonwoo’s, he’ll wait until he can observe the situation for himself to make any decisions about his siblings—it’s only fair, and he bets it’s a complex situation anyway.  Wonwoo’s chewing nervously on his bottom lip now, mind clearly far away, so Soonyoung taps his finger on it.  Immediately Wonwoo’s teeth release it and he looks up at Soonyoung.  “Anything I can do?” Soonyoung asks him, and he shrugs.  

“I don’t know.”  A wicked smile appears on his face after a second, though.  “But I kinda want to hear more about _the incident_ from your point of view.”

So Soonyoung rolls his eyes and reaches for the hem of Wonwoo’s shirt, pushing it up just a bit.  “You have a mole down here that’s been haunting me for months,” he says, stroking one finger along Wonwoo’s hipbone.  He smiles, because now he can see it whenever he wants, and because Wonwoo’s hands have moved to his hips, fingers pressing slightly into the fabric of his shirt.  Soonyoung leans in close, just barely brushing his lips against Wonwoo’s, and lifts Wonwoo’s shirt some more—Wonwoo’s breath stutters when Soonyoung runs his hands over his waist, the lowest part of his stomach, the very beginnings of his ribcage.  “Do you need to sleep some more or can we play,” Soonyoung murmurs.

Before he’s even got the second half of the question out, Wonwoo’s answering the first with an almost frantic shake of his head.  “Anything you want,” he says, voice already lower, breathier.

“Not gonna fall asleep on me?” he asks coyly, then lets his voice deadpan and raises one eyebrow—“Again?”

No sooner than the words are out of Soonyoung’s mouth, Wonwoo yawns, as if this is some mediocre sitcom—Soonyoung bursts out laughing, and Wonwoo immediately blushes and wrinkles up his nose.  “That was just bad timing, I swear,” he says, and he sounds so sweet and looks so adorable that Soonyoung can’t help but gently place his hands at his jawline and lean in for a kiss.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

 

Dinner arrives faster than Wonwoo can get himself ready for it.  It’s easy to tell how nervous he is in the days leading up to his siblings’ visit, because he’s distracted, fidgety, and wants to head straight to bed after getting home most mornings.  Soonyoung makes a point to lay with him until he falls asleep or until he absolutely can’t stay any longer without throwing his entire day off schedule, but he doesn’t think it’s helping—it doesn’t seem to calm Wonwoo’s nerves, anyway, or if it does it only lasts while he’s asleep, and as soon as he wakes up again he’s back to square one.

Soonyoung’s own nerves don’t kick in until Wonwoo looks up from his phone and announces that their guests have just parked and are on their way up.  At once, he’s self-conscious about the shirt he’s picked out, how he’s styled his hair, whether he should have swapped the celestine on the cord around his neck out for some good old citrine instead.  Wonwoo notices him fussing with his shirt and grabs his hands.  “Relax, Soonyoung, you look so good,” he assures him softly.  “They’re gonna love you, everyone does.”  Soonyoung gives Wonwoo’s hand a squeeze just as their doorbell rings.

Wonwoo’s siblings are as gorgeous as he is, naturally—Seulgi, his sister, has a slightly rounder face but the same sharp eyes, and Juho’s sharp all over like Wonwoo, with a few key differences in the face; different nose, pointier chin, et cetera.  Either way, Soonyoung’s suspicion that it wasn’t fair that there’s an _extra Wonwoo_ running around is both confirmed and denied—confirmed, because, yeah—he’s sexy.  Denied because…

Because he isn’t Wonwoo.  Wonwoo’s already perfected this gene pool, clearly, so why does it matter if there’s someone else who’s _almost_ Wonwoo, but without the Wonwoo-ness?

Luckily, he pulls himself out of the rabbit hole of contemplating how perfect Wonwoo is before he gets too deep and goes catatonic for the entire dinner.  That would not have been a great first impression to make on his boyfriend’s family.

His boyfriend’s family.  Right.  Soonyoung feels a spike of anxiety right in his chest, and tries to breathe it away.

The actual dinner goes fine, and Soonyoung makes conversation where he can—he _does_ feel a little out of place being the only non-sibling there—but mostly, he listens, and keeps an eye on Wonwoo.  He’d been so nervous, so scared of this, that Soonyoung had begun expecting his brother and sister to sprout fangs, or something, and for Wonwoo to be shaking like a leaf throughout the entire evening.  He’s not, though, and in fact he seems _happy._ Comfortable.  He laughs as they reminisce, and fusses over pictures of his niece on Seulgi’s phone, and informs Seulgi that Soonyoung is even more obsessed with being healthy than she is (Soonyoung spends fifteen minutes discussing protein smoothies with her, until Juho and Wonwoo simultaneously groan _NO ONE CARES_.)

It’s not until work comes up that Wonwoo’s demeanor shifts, and it shifts hard, and immediately.  Soonyoung had almost thought they’d get through the visit without issue, but then Wonwoo’s phone rings.  He glances at Soonyoung and Soonyoung can see him tense up.  He clears his throat.  “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks.

Wonwoo doesn’t look up.  “My boss.”

None of them say anything, but as soon as Wonwoo’s out of the room, Seulgi and Juho turn their full attention to Soonyoung—which is a little scary.  This family is nothing if not intimidatingly gorgeous, and it’s a lot to have it trained on you from more than one angle at once.

“Soonyoung,” Seulgi whispers excitedly, eyes darting for a moment to Wonwoo’s closed bedroom door, “are you a member of Team Get Wonwoo to Find a Decent Job?  Can we coordinate our efforts?”

Okay.  So, if Soonyoung were in Wonwoo’s position, yeah.  This probably wouldn’t sit well. “I...guess I’m a member?  But I don’t know if I can coordinate, exactly.”

“Of course you can!” Seulgi responds lightly.  “You can be our man on the inside.”

Juho points at him with his fork.  “You just have to be subtle enough that he doesn’t know you’re doing it.”

Right.  Soonyoung looks back and forth between them for a moment, uneasy.  “Um, I don’t want to do that,” he says eventually.  They’re both looking at him curiously now, and Soonyoung’s a little terrified of them both, still, so he tries to explain.  “He would love to do something else, he just doesn’t think it’s that simple?  And it’s not, really, and the last thing I want to do is stress him out about whether he should quit, when he’s already stressed about working there.”

“But if he quit he wouldn’t _have_ the stress of working there,” Juho says, as if Soonyoung doesn’t realize that.  

There’s a few more seconds of awkward silence, with the two of them waiting for Soonyoung to respond and Soonyoung not knowing how.  Seulgi sighs.  “Soonyoung,” she says, her voice no longer bright and excited but sad and a little desperate, “you live with him, do you not see how miserable it makes him?”

“Of course I do,” Soonyoung replies, unable to keep the offended edge out of his voice.  “But...it’s the devil he knows.  Doing something else is harder than doing what you’re used to.”  Soonyoung shrugs, and looks down at his plate.  “He’ll do it when he’s ready.”

He refrains from pointing out how much Wonwoo would hate feeling like he’d been puppeted into doing something he wasn’t ready to do, especially by the people he’s supposed to be able to trust the most in the world, no matter how good their intentions, letting that bubble away under the surface instead.  When he looks up at them, Seulgi’s looking disappointed but resigned, but Juho—Juho’s got this tiny, barely there smirk and one eyebrow raised—a look Soonyoung only recognizes because he’s seen it on Wonwoo.  The ‘you thought you were slick huh’ look.  The ‘I see right through you Kwon Soonyoung’ look.

He doesn’t say anything, for which Soonyoung is eternally grateful, but Soonyoung can tell he knows.  Soonyoung gets the impression these two would never do anything to make Wonwoo uncomfortable or upset on purpose—beyond normal sibling torment, anyway—and that Wonwoo has let his own insecurities mess with his perception of things a little.  It doesn’t surprise him, and they can work on it, but there’s also the fact that the whole secret mission to get Wonwoo to quit his job isn’t something Wonwoo would _ever_ respond well to.  Soonyoung thinks they probably have tried talking to him about it with no success, so they’ve moved onto this because they don’t know what else to do and they know he’s unhappy, but _still_.

Miscommunication all around, basically, and Soonyoung knows it’s not his place to step in—he might have already overstepped saying what he did to Seulgi and Juho.  He hopes not.  It would do nothing to soften the blow of the ‘surprise, we’re dating!’ bomb Wonwoo’s planning to drop at the end of the night.

After a minute or so more, Wonwoo returns to the table and sits down, mumbling an explanation about his manager needing him to cover someone’s shift and him having to spend five minutes getting out of it.  When he’s finished, there’s silence for a second before he exclaims “ _Ow_ ,” and looks up and across from him, at Juho, eyes accusatory.  This time there’s no expression on Juho’s face for Soonyoung to read at all, but when Soonyoung looks at Wonwoo his eyes are wide and his nostrils are flared and he glances quickly at Soonyoung and then back to his brother before clearing his throat loudly.

“Oh come on, you know I hate this, what’s going on?” Seulgi asks, like she’s all too used to them having silent twin conversations.

“Nothing,” they say together, and Soonyoung can’t help but laugh into his plate a little.

But Wonwoo’s uncomfortable now, and Soonyoung can tell, and so can the others, so no one says anything for a bit—until Juho.  “Wonwoo,” he starts hesitantly.  “My company has a few positions opening up.”  Instinctively, Soonyoung grips Wonwoo’s knee under the table, as Wonwoo leans back, a cold smile on his face.

“Do they?” he asks, forcing his voice to a level of casual and sweet that’s scary.

“I’m not saying you have to do it, I’m just telling you the option is there.  I could get you hired in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t need you to get me hired, I don’t want to be one of your receptionists, or what the fuck ever.”

Juho huffs.  “It isn’t—”  He cuts himself off, glancing at Soonyoung.  “Okay.  I’m sorry.”  They look at each other in silence for a bit, and Soonyoung gets the feeling they’re communicating with their minds again, or what the fuck ever twins do.  That’s the end of it, though—nothing else about Wonwoo’s job gets said, and they return to normal conversation—except Wonwoo never quite gets back to how easy it had been before, and keeps his hand clasped around Soonyoung’s for the rest of the night.

Both of his siblings hug him tight before they leave, and Seulgi coos over Soonyoung for a bit, telling Wonwoo he should let him be a good influence on him, and Soonyoung doesn’t say anything when they leave and Wonwoo still hasn’t told them they’re together.  It only stings a little, because it’s not like it’s a secret, really, and he knows how upset Wonwoo had gotten.  When the door closes behind Seulgi and Juho, Soonyoung slides his hand back into Wonwoo’s and leans his chin on his shoulder.  “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.  No.  I don’t know.  I was having such a good _time_ ,” he grumbles, and Soonyoung makes  a sympathetic noise. “Can we go to bed?”

Soonyoung nods, and follows him there.  He lingers in the doorway as Wonwoo undresses down to his boxers and pulls on a t-shirt from the foot of his bed.  “Are you coming?” he asks, looking tired, but already slightly more relaxed—Soonyoung doesn’t want to make him feel bad again, but he’s about to burst.  He just wants to help.

“Can I say something?” he asks, and Wonwoo nods, climbing into bed.  Soonyoung gets in after him and he switches off the lamp, pulling Soonyoung close.  “They don’t mean to make you feel this way,” Soonyoung whispers.  Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, and it’s too dark in the room now to make out his expression, but Soonyoung can feel a small sigh escape him.  “They want you to be happy and maybe they don’t go about it right sometimes but—”

“Did they say something to you?”

He’s walking a thin line and he knows it.  “I’m only saying because I can see how much you all care about each other and it would be really sad for something to come between you guys,” he says quickly.  When he reaches up to hold Wonwoo’s face, he lets him, but Soonyoung can feel the tension he’s caused.  “I’m not saying they shouldn’t be more considerate of what you need.  Or how you feel.  I’m just—”  He falters.  “I don’t know.  I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, Wonwoo just scoots forward and finds his lips in the dark, kissing him once.  “You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, though he sounds so, so tired. “You’re very sweet and I like you so much.”

“I like you so much too,” Soonyoung murmurs.  “I shouldn’t have said anything.  I just want you to be happy too, you know.”

Wonwoo pulls him flush against him.  “I know,” he says, but Soonyoung hears something like doubt, something like resignation in his voice, and it gives him a _terrible_ feeling.

  
+++

  
Things seem alright, but when the anxious, gloomy demeanor Wonwoo displayed before the dinner is still there a week after, Soonyoung starts to worry.  And when it’s still there in another week, he doesn’t know what to do.

He knows he wants to help Wonwoo, figure out what’s going on, obviously.  He wants to ask if it’s just his siblings, or if it’s him, or if it’s work, or if it’s everything.  Or if it’s him.  He’s scared he upset Wonwoo the night of the dinner and...he hadn’t _meant_ to, he just was so overwhelmed by wanting to make him feel better—but it doesn’t matter what he intended, because he clearly hadn’t.  So now he really, really wants to make things right, but he doesn’t know how.  The bottom line is that things between them, as they are now, are still new.  Their friendship hasn’t changed, but now that they’re also _more_ than friends it makes Soonyoung want to do more for Wonwoo, wants to _be_ more for him, but—if Wonwoo says he wants to be alone, he doesn’t want to push it.  Soonyoung knows Wonwoo worries about being a burden, so he doesn’t want to force _help_ on him if he’s not ready, and he doesn’t want to force affection and cuddles and whatever else on him if he’s not ready either.  So Soonyoung lets Wonwoo try to work through it on his own, and worries that he’s not doing enough, and that if he does something it’ll be too much.  It’s a hard line to walk, and he doesn’t think he’s doing a good job.

Which is, of course, unacceptable, because if one thing goes, it all goes.

Soonyoung doesn’t complain to his friends this time, or his coworkers; just stews in uncertainty and anxiety and smiles when they ask what’s wrong.  He doesn’t know what to say—it’s so, so much to explain and some of it is Wonwoo’s business that he doesn’t want to go telling just everyone.  So he’s quiet.  He talks to Wonwoo when he’ll let him, but not about this.  He teaches his classes, half-heartedly.  He gives lessons that he knows aren’t up to his usual standard.  He does yoga on his own, to try and get some clarity, and he just can’t—because if one thing goes, it all goes.

Until he realizes, it doesn’t.

When your boyfriend is just on the other side of your wall, but wants to be alone, it gives you time to think.  And what Soonyoung ends up thinking about one morning, curled up in his bed instead of in his normal thinking pose on the floor, is this tiny, throwaway thing Wonwoo said to him, sometime between The Incident and the first time they kissed.  His head had been in Soonyoung’s lap and Soonyoung had been rambling about something or other as Wonwoo either listened or slept, he wasn’t sure.  Eventually, Soonyoung’s ramblings had led him to the subject of his own self doubts, and Wonwoo had piped up from his lap:

“You know, even if all that was true, which it’s not; even if all your worst fears were suddenly real...it wouldn’t be the end of the world.  You’d just keep going.”

At the time, Soonyoung had been too focused on the weight of Wonwoo’s head resting against his thigh, the way his hands were folded delicately on his stomach, how long his eyelashes were, how nice his voice was.  But he thinks about it now, and it finally, finally clicks.

It isn’t dramatic, and it’s not really an epiphany, or anything like that, and it doesn’t fix things immediately.  But it’s something—something else for Soonyoung to hold onto, something that seems so _obvious_ now, but it hadn’t been, for whatever reason.  It’s a feeling; a light bulb; a realization that he can work on it, and eventually, hopefully, be better.

He turns toward the wall his room shares with Wonwoo’s.  There are more important things to focus on, anyway, than his insecurities, rational _or_ irrational.

Gingerly, he sits up on his knees and places an ear to the wall, listening for signs of life—he thinks he hears the _beep_ s and _ding_ s from whatever game Wonwoo’s playing on his phone.  So he bites his lip and he knocks gently on the wall.

There’s a beat of silence, and then:  “...Soonyoung?”

“Hey,” he says.  “You’re still awake?”

“I am,” Wonwoo replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.  That means he’s not completely closed off right now, at least.

Soonyoung closes his eyes and sighs.  “I know you’re having a hard time right now.  And I’ve been trying my best to, you know...give you space,” he says, shaking his head at how stupid he must sound, “because, like, I don’t want to push you away.  And also, you’re allowed! You’re allowed to want to be alone, I know it’s partially just...how you are, and also we _have_ to be able to set boundaries,” he rambles.  “But I guess I just want to make sure you know I’m...I’m here,” he finishes weakly.

When Wonwoo responds it sounds like he’s gotten up and is right on the other side of the wall.  “Of course I know.”  He still doesn’t sound upset or angry, it’s mostly curious and unsure—so Soonyoung keeps going.

“I know they’re working you to death lately and I know your siblings didn’t help...but is—is any of it me?”  He tears up, thankful for the wall between them, as everything hits him at once.  “It’s okay if it is, I know I probably shouldn’t have said anything that night after dinner, but I just—you can tell me, okay?  So we can talk it out, and I can fix it—”

His door, which had been half ajar, swings the rest of the way open and Wonwoo is on his bed before Soonyoung can even register it, pulling him away from the wall and into his arms.  Soonyoung presses his face where Wonwoo’s neck meets his shoulder, not because he wants to hide, but because he feels like he hasn’t gotten to do this in too long. “It’s not you.  Oh my god, Soonyoung, I promise it’s not you.”  Soonyoung breathes in, feeling calmer already—and then Wonwoo speaks again.  “I’m sorry, I—”  His voice breaks.  Soonyoung looks up, slowly, and Wonwoo has one tear rolling down his cheek.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes and a small smile finds its way to his lips.  “Oh, come on, how is it fair you’re even a pretty crier,” he says, sniffling and reaching out to wipe the tear away with the back of his hand, then cup Wonwoo’s cheek gently.  He looks so sorry, and so sad, and Soonyoung immediately knows he’s telling the truth, that it isn’t anything to do with him at all.  But that still leaves the main issue at hand, and Soonyoung’s certainly never seen Wonwoo _cry_ before, so it’s clearly pressing.  “Will you talk to me?” he asks softly.  Wonwoo swallows, and laughs wetly, just once.

The floodgates open.

“You were right the other night.  What you said about Juho and Seulgi.  It’s just so fucking frustrating because I _know_ they’re trying to help but they just—they don’t _get it_ —most people in my life haven’t gotten it.  I mean, it took my mom and dad a month to _kind of_ get over me going on antidepressants.  Seulgi and Juho think pretending they’re sneaky and throwing out stupid hints is an effective method of ‘helping me’ or _worse_ , offering to get me a job with them because apparently I can’t get anything better for myself on my own?  Like, it’s one thing to think that myself, but when other people reinforce it…” He shakes his head.  “And I know that’s not what they mean by it, and I know I should just explain things to them or whatever, but that’s _hard_.”  He rubs at his eyes, though he hasn’t cried since his single DiCaprio tear, then he gets this terribly, heartbreakingly ashamed look on his face, and reaches for Soonyoung’s hand.  “And I’m not used to having someone around who _does_ get it, without me having to try to explain?  Someone who’s never made me feel like shit about...any of it.  So I guess muscle memory took over and I just...shut down...” He looks away, anywhere but Soonyoung’s face, like he’s too scared to meet his eyes.  “Sorry I’m an idiot.”

Straight away, Soonyoung tells him “You’re not,” but Wonwoo’s shaking his head anyway and still refusing to look at him.  “I understand, _now_.”  Soonyoung reaches out and turns his face toward him again.  “I do wish one of us had cracked before I freaked myself out thinking I did something to make you not like me anymore,” he says, smiling just a little, because it seems so ridiculous now.

Wonwoo stares, though, his mouth hanging open, and shakes his head weakly.  “No, no, I—”  He deflates completely, cutting himself off as his shoulders slump and he drops his head into his hands.  “ _Worst_ boyfriend,” he mumbles, and now it _does_ sound like he’s crying.

“Hush,” Soonyoung says, immediately, leaning his chin onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and planting a kiss there over his t-shirt.  “That isn’t true.  Tired boyfriend, yes.  Cranky boyfriend, sometimes.  Sad boyfriend, sometimes.”  He wraps his arms tight around Wonwoo’s waist.  “You can be all of that, and still be best boyfriend,” he says softly; “I care about you just as much when things are bad as when they’re good.”

Leaning into Soonyoung’s embrace, Wonwoo sighs heavily.  “I do _know_ a lot of this stems from my job, and...my situation.  But I’m not ready to quit.  I’m just not.  There’s no guarantee it would even help, really.”

“It’s _okay_ , Wonwoo.  I know you’re trying.”  They loosen their grip on each other as the hardest parts of the conversation seem to be over.  Soonyoung smiles, feeling himself relax into Wonwoo’s presence with no worries or insecurities for the first time in a while.  “In the meantime, y’know, we’ll...work on it.  We’ll figure something out.”

Wonwoo squints at him.  “I like you.  You’re smart.”

“Just feeling enlightened today.”  Soonyoung wrinkles his nose and kisses him, lets his lips linger against Wonwoo’s until finally he pulls away, slowly.

“You’re perfect,” Wonwoo says, shaky and hushed, and it’s barely out before Soonyoung leans back in for another kiss, this one harder, more urgent.  

“Try to get some sleep, okay?” he says when they pull apart.  “I have to—actually, hang on.”  Soonyoung takes a breath. The world won’t end, right?

 

_ <  hansol darling  
<  i need to reschedule i’m sorry :( _

_>  No prob_  
_ >  Everything ok? _

_<  mhm something important just came up!!_

 

Years of doing this job, and he’s never rescheduled anything just _because_ —and he still hasn’t, this isn’t just because, not really.  It’s because Wonwoo.  He locks his phone and looks back up.  “Never mind.  I’m free.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows are in the sky, practically.  “Did you just cancel a lesson?”

“Well...rescheduled.”

“But you only schedule things.  You’ve never _re_ scheduled _anything_.”  Wonwoo raises one eyebrow.  “That’s why you’re trying to make the fucking sex calendar happen.”

Soonyoung huffs.  “Okay, the sex calendar is _necessary_ , our work schedules don’t match and—like, do you know how hard it’s been trying to figure out the optimum time that you won’t fall asleep mid-fucking-coitus?”  Affection makes his heart stutter as he watches Wonwoo’s nose scrunch up in laughter, and then watches Wonwoo let himself fall backwards onto Soonyoung’s pillow.  Soonyoung joins him, pressing up against him with an arm slung over his stomach.  “Anyway, I’m not going to make a habit of it.  It’s just that I only have Hansol today, and I don’t think he’s going to go around telling people I’m unprofessional.”

“Didn’t you threaten to kill him after the _incident?_ ”

“Oh.  Well. Still, though.”

As they lay in silence for a moment, Wonwoo’s hand finds Soonyoung’s again.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to, Wonwoo.”  He tilts his head up to look at him as best he can.  “What do you think I’m here for?”

Wonwoo bites his lip.  “I just don’t wanna put all my shit on you,” he says, almost distractedly.

At this point, Soonyoung’s determined to get Wonwoo out of this mindset, so he pushes himself up on one elbow so he can give him a proper, stern look.  “You don’t want to put _any_ of your shit on _anyone_ , and that’s your whole problem.”  He tries to stay firm, but he finds it so, so hard to give Wonwoo anything but sweetness, and he softens in an instant, reaching to smooth Wonwoo’s hair.  As Soonyoung smiles at him, Wonwoo blinks sleepily.  “I just want to help, and if I feel like cancelling— _rescheduling_ a lesson or two will help you, you ought to shut up and _let me_ , dummy.”  Wonwoo rolls his eyes and pulls Soonyoung back down next to him and holds him.  Settling into the crook of Wonwoo’s arm like he belongs there, Soonyoung melts against him once again, and sighs.  “You’ve done more for me than you realize, you know.  That’s how this is supposed to work, I think.  We help each other out.  We...you know.  Balance each other.”

He feels Wonwoo give a sigh, then feels Wonwoo’s lips at the crown of his head.  “Thank you,” Wonwoo murmurs into his hair.  “I really do think you’re perfect.  I’m lucky you care about me this much.”  Soonyoung just pushes even closer to him, if it’s possible.  “But I feel like going to sleep would be a waste now. And you just woke up, you won’t even be able to nap.  You should let me blow you, or something, at least.”

Soonyoung laughs, loud, into Wonwoo’s shirt.  “Honey,” he says fondly, craning up to kiss Wonwoo’s jaw.  “You’d just fall asleep anyway.”

After an hour or so of talking, Wonwoo finally does fall asleep, curled up against Soonyoung’s chest.  Soonyoung keeps getting these phantom panics, like he’s forgetting to do something—then remembering he _isn’t_.  It’s kind of nice.  It’s _really_ nice to be spooning Wonwoo.  The nicest thing, though, is the feeling of progress—the feeling of hope.  He knows Wonwoo’s problems won’t be solved in one conversation, and it’s the same with his own stuff, but a step forward is still a step forward, and it’s comforting all the same.  Wonwoo’s always been comforting in one way or another, and Soonyoung thinks maybe it’s all been building to this: here, holding Wonwoo against him, feeling his breath puffing out against his clavicle—it feels like home.  Wonwoo feels like home.

  
+++

  
Eight months after the day Soonyoung and Wonwoo first met, a regular day goes like this:

Soonyoung still wakes up with the sun, always.  Sometimes, though, the sun is Wonwoo, on mornings Soonyoung gets to wake up next to him—bright and soft and warm, no matter how tired he is.  If Wonwoo‘s still working, Soonyoung does his own morning yoga routine and stretches, then makes himself a cup of peppermint tea, usually with some variation of toast or fruit for breakfast.  Then he waits for Wonwoo to get home, so he can give him a kiss or a massage or maybe something a little more fun before he goes to sleep and Soonyoung’s day starts.  Sometimes, before Wonwoo goes to sleep, he asks to talk to Soonyoung, to complain about work or tell him how he’s doing or just chat.  Sometimes, if Soonyoung doesn’t have an early start, he’ll just lay with him, sit with him or plan his day out or just keep him company while he reads quietly or naps. Then he either leaves to meet whoever he has a session with at their place, or waits for them to arrive.  On days he teaches at the studio he heads there in the late afternoon; on days he has massage therapy appointments to tend to he heads there earlier.  He comes home after and makes himself dinner, and when Wonwoo wakes up they spend whatever time they have before Wonwoo needs to go to work together—in various states of undress, depending on the sex calendar, or, _very_ rarely, with Soonyoung talking Wonwoo through some stretches that will help him get through his shift.  Soonyoung sends Wonwoo off to work each night with a smile and a kiss and a healthy snack for his break and things are very, very, good—Wonwoo still gets down sometimes, but now he’s more willing to share with Soonyoung; Soonyoung still doubts himself sometimes, but he’s more willing to believe the people who want to build him back up.

Wonwoo’s siblings visit every now and then, now that Wonwoo has a bit more perspective on his issues with them.  Soonyoung is officially introduced as Wonwoo’s boyfriend the next time they come over, and Seulgi slaps Wonwoo and then Juho on the arm in quick succession before anyone even reacts, because she knows immediately that she was the only one not in the loop, blaming twin telepathy and the woes of being the oldest sibling.  Both of them wince identically as Seulgi pulls Soonyoung into a hug, cooing about how it’s not his fault her brothers are idiots and how excited she is to get closer to him and how she desperately wants to take one of his classes.  Wonwoo rolls his eyes, giving him a weak, embarrassed smile before whining at her to get _off_ of my boyfriend, Seulgi, stop being cringey already.

Cringe or not, Soonyoung feels awfully happy.

Jihoon and Junhui visit more often too, now that Soonyoung is marginally less obsessive about his schedule, and it makes Soonyoung so glad to see them happy together.  He often says some variation of ‘thank god you two decided to kick me out,’ or ‘imagine if I stayed at your ratty old hand-me-down place, Jihoonie,’ just to see Jihoon give him his exasperated, sarcastic grin—he does miss it.  But really, it had been _this close_ , and where would he be if he had stayed?

Gut feelings are always, always right, no matter how many times Jihoon told him he was being ridiculous.  

“I just can’t believe you’re dating someone you barely see?” Jihoon says during one visit.  Wonwoo’s asleep on the couch, and the remaining three of them are around the kitchen table.  “I mean, you used to get mad when _I_ didn’t want to deal with you and we weren’t even dating.”

Soonyoung shrugs.  “Well...yeah, I guess it’s not perfect, but it’s still good.”  He pauses, glancing toward the couch and grinning.  “It’s really good.  We argue a little, but it doesn’t last—and sometimes it sucks when he wants to be alone, but it’s not that often anymore, really.  So, I don’t know.  I’m learning.  We both are.  I’m trying.  Because he’s trying really, really hard.  For _me_.”

“Well, good.”  Soonyoung doesn’t miss the way Jihoon slides his hand into Junhui’s as he responds.  “You deserve someone who tries really hard for you.” Silence stretches around them for a second, until Soonyoung’s grin widens and he has to bite his lip to try and keep it in check.

“I maybe love him a little,” he whispers, and Jihoon’s face brightens as Jun’s eyebrows shoot into the air and he slaps Soonyoung’s arm repeatedly.  “Shut up, shut _up_.  We’ve only been together a few months and I don’t want to freak him out.”

“Soonyoung, you absolute donut,” Jun says.  “This did not start a mere _few months_ ago and you know it.”

He’s right, of course.  It started the second he opened the door.

“I mean, remember the day you moved in—you told us he said he had a _feeling,_ or whatever the fuck.  That’s your whole thing.  This was _bound_ to happen.”  Jun takes a self-satisfied sip of his coffee, giving Soonyoung a pointed look.

“What was that, anyway?” Jihoon asks.  “Did you guys ever figure out what was one nanometer off-kilter?”

Slowly, Soonyoung looks up from where he’d been smiling softly at the table, and glances toward Wonwoo’s sleeping form on the couch.  His smile spreads further across his face until he’s beaming, and then he turns to Jihoon.

“Yeah.  We figured it out.”

 

Soonyoung discovers that, despite Wonwoo’s initial resistance to _help_ of any kind, he loves—he _loves_ —to be doted on and taken care of.  He should have known, really, based on the cozy vibe he’d got off him from day one, or at least the constant snuggling the closer they got, but he only really realizes how deep it goes when he starts doing random, sweet things for him and it immediately turns him to a mushy puddle of goo, showering Soonyoung in kisses and praise...or it turns him into a sex fiend, showering Soonyoung in kisses and praise.  It’s quite an exciting discovery for Soonyoung all around, and it’s this discovery that’s led him to run home after his class, draw Wonwoo a hot, bubbly, luxurious bath, and drag him into the bathroom.  He tells him it’s because he knows he has a long shift tonight, and this way he can get himself relaxed and zen and prepared, but it doesn’t surprise him in the slightest when he tries to leave only to get dragged backwards again.  Maybe Wonwoo saw the waterproof lube he’d sat on the back of the toilet, or maybe he’s just really into Soonyoung.  Soonyoung’s not complaining, either way.

It’s after he’s settled back against Wonwoo’s chest in the tub (and before they’ve made use of the lube) that Wonwoo speaks.  “You always tell me not to just say things without warning, so...I’m warning you, okay?”

Honestly, he doesn’t think being warned is going to help him, if the things Wonwoo has said in the past are anything to go on.  “Okay…” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“I don’t know where I’d be if we never met.”  He pauses, and Soonyoung feels his lips at the shell of his ear.  “I feel better than I’ve felt in years and it’s because of you.”

Soonyoung smiles, but shakes his head.  “No more than it’s because of you.”

“I mean, I’ve been trying.  But I think I needed help all this time and now…”  He trails off as Soonyoung makes a tiny noise of protest, fully intending to launch into how Wonwoo had what he needed all along, or something.  Wonwoo huffs, but Soonyoung can hear the smile in it.  “Neither of us is going to take full credit, ever, so can you just say ‘you’re welcome Wonwoo’ and then we’ll drop it?”

Soonyoung turns around, sloshing some water out of the tub, before shifting up and into Wonwoo’s lap, their faces centimeters apart.  “You’re welcome, Wonwoo,” he says, voice low and syrupy sweet.  Wonwoo grins, and leans forward to kiss him, but Soonyoung sits up and out of his reach, quirking an eyebrow, and drags one hand down his torso.

“Soonyoung, you're—oh…”

“Hm?”  Soonyoung cocks his head to the side, grinning evilly as his hand moves under the water, out of sight.  “I’m what?”

“Gorgeous, you're so—”  Wonwoo cuts himself off again and lets out a shuddering sigh.  “I love when you're like this.”

Well, obviously.  “You,” Soonyoung says, “like when I do all the work.”

Wonwoo bites his lip.  “I like watching you.”

An amused snort escapes Soonyoung as he rolls his eyes.  “I know, creep.”

“You like when I watch.”  Wonwoo slides his hands up Soonyoung’s sides to his shoulders.  He raises one eyebrow.  “Creep.”

“Mm.”  Soonyoung leans in close again, reaching blindly for the strategically placed lube.  “Maybe a little,” he murmurs, meeting Wonwoo halfway this time when he leans up toward him.

 

When they’ve finished, and then finished washing, Wonwoo kisses Soonyoung one more time and they get out of the tub.  “We need to write the old tenant a thank you note for this thing,” he says, dripping water onto the floor.  (The floor is already covered in water.  Soonyoung didn’t think to account for bathtub sex when he ran it as full as it would go.)

“...I don’t think they’d appreciate it as much as you’re imagining.”

“If I had to move out suddenly right after redoing my bathroom I’d want to know _someone_ was getting my money’s worth.”

Soonyoung laughs.  “Right.  ‘Dear past tenant, thanks so much for the tub.  Any tips on how to get come out of a loofah? Love, Soonyoung and Wonwoo.’”

Midway through wrapping a towel around his hips—war flashbacks—Wonwoo pouts, then answers.  “I bet they _would_ have tips.  What’s the point of that thing if you’re not gonna fuck in it?  And there’s that weird bar on the wall, you’re telling me they weren’t having shower sex?”

“No one actually _has_ shower sex, it’s too hard.”

“Hence the bar,” Wonwoo explains as he’s bent over, toweling off his hair.  He straightens up and exhales a long, satisfied breath, then wrinkles up his nose.  “Maybe I’ll call in.”

Smiling, Soonyoung leans against the door frame.  “As much as I want to be selfish,” he says, reaching up to ruffle Wonwoo’s hair forcefully when he comes near, “you shouldn’t go disrupting your day-to-day for little old me.”

Wonwoo looks at him for a very long moment, confused, almost.  Why he’s confused, Soonyoung has no idea, but then he shakes his head, looks like he realizes whatever he was confused about.  He smiles a little, biting his lip. “Maybe I’ll quit.”

He just says it, like he’s said so many things before.  Then he strolls past Soonyoung and out of the room.  “Oh?”  Soonyoung snatches up his clothes before hurriedly turning and following him.  “What?”

When he reaches Wonwoo’s bedroom, Wonwoo’s already dressed and chewing on his thumbnail.  “Maybe I’ll quit,” says.  Now he’s a little softer, a little more unsure, but his eyes are sparkling and he sounds almost _excited_.  “Would that be okay?”

“Of course?”  Soonyoung really doesn’t know what to think yet, but he pulls on his pants and approaches Wonwoo, cautiously optimistic.  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because I pay half our bills?”  

Now Soonyoung’s lips are beginning to curl into a smile.  “...You’d find something else eventually.”

“I have some money saved…” Wonwoo says, that edge of excitement still in his voice.  “if things get dire I could probably ask my sister...”

“You’re serious,” Soonyoung says, impressed, before he pulls on his shirt.  “What’s brought this on all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know—I—”  He laughs quietly.  “I mean, the pros outweigh the cons, right?  I don’t want to work shitty inconsistent hours anymore, or be a shithead reclusive asshole when I’m off, or have to schedule sex appointments.  And—”

Soonyoung pushes himself up on his tiptoes, shaking his head and smiling, and kisses him midway through his next thought.  He’s being sweet, and he’s doing something brave, and Soonyoung is proud of him, so he grabs his hands and kisses him, hard.

“You have a lot of good ideas,” he says, beaming, “but this one is _really_ good.”  Wonwoo lets Soonyoung hold him close, one hand sneaking up to hold the back of his head.  “And don’t worry, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

Pulling back just a bit out of Soonyoung’s arms, Wonwoo purses his lips.  “I’m probably still gonna be a _little_ reclusive.”

“That’s alright.”  Soonyoung steps back, holding both of Wonwoo’s hands again.  “I will be waiting with smooches and massages and blowjobs that respect the fuck out of your personal boundaries.”

Wonwoo smiles, and heads hand in hand with Soonyoung toward the living room, bumping Soonyoung’s hip fondly with his own.  “Best boyfriend.”  He smiles Soonyoung’s favorite crooked grin.  “I think I’m gonna quit.”

They sit down on the couch and Wonwoo can’t seem to stop smiling.  Soonyoung is breathless; this is a Wonwoo he’s seen very, very little of—the change in the past two minutes alone is remarkable.

“So,” Soonyoung starts, hooking his arm through Wonwoo’s and leaning against him, “what are you gonna do?”

Wonwoo makes a terribly unsure face, with a hint of crazy, a hint of scared, a hint of a smile.  “I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

“Well, don’t worry, honey.  We’ll think of—oh!” Soonyoung exclaims, remembering that—well, Wonwoo may not have planned for this, but Soonyoung is another story.  “Duh! What about France?”

“Excuse me?” Wonwoo asks, frowning down at him in confusion.

“If you want to be a patissier, you simply _must_ train in France, Wonwoo.”  He’d thought that much was obvious.

Wonwoo looks confused, still, then sighs, then laughs.  “Straight to the source, I guess?”

Soonyoung grins.  “Of course.”  He grabs Wonwoo’s hand and holds it palm-up in one of his own, tracing his fingers lightly over it.  “I’ve been researching ever since you told me about it.  I already have like three schools picked out for you.  Of course, there’s the issue of distance if you go, but...I _do_ already have a history of disappearing to foreign countries.  You know, if you decided you couldn’t live without me.  Also, I—”

“You’d really move to France for me?  For multiple years?”

He looks up when Wonwoo says it, at how truly shocked he sounds.  “Of course? I mean, French people do yoga, probably.”  It probably says something significant that he feels fine about the prospect of leaving the job he has here and finding a new one in France—but he does have a history of it, after all.  And anyway, what would Wonwoo do without him? “Besides, that’s what you do when you’re in—ah.”

Close one.

Soonyoung averts his gaze immediately, dropping his eyes back to Wonwoo’s hand, and continues.  “...When you really really care about someone and want them to be happy.”  His ears are on fire and he clears his throat, settling against Wonwoo again.  Immediately he’s pulled tight to his side.

“Me too,” Wonwoo murmurs into the crown of his head after a second or two.

“You too what?”  He looks up to find Wonwoo’s eyes trained on him, and neither of them say anything for a few moments, and things are quiet, and cozy, and soft, even though Soonyoung’s heart is pounding in his chest.

“You know what.”  

Soonyoung smiles for a second before he’s unable to handle the eye contact any longer, letting out a tortured whine and covering his face.  Wonwoo drags his hands away, as he’s done a million times now; but he doesn’t press the issue, instead choosing to continue the main job-quitting part of the conversation.  “If I’m really going to do this you’d better get ready, because non-soul-sucking-job-having Wonwoo is really god damn romantic and he has a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Really, Soonyoung doesn’t know why they don’t just say it already.  It’s not like either of them doesn’t know how the other feels.

“Oh, I’m ready.”

  
+++

   
“Were you waiting for me?”

Wonwoo’s just come in the door, where Soonyoung’s been hovering, checking the time on his phone for the past ten minutes or so.

“Yes!  I have a really busy day and a million errands to run and I need to go like five minutes ago but I wanted to just, y’know.  I didn’t want to miss you.” Wonwoo smiles, exhausted, and leans in to kiss him once.

“You’re cute.”

“I know.”  He stretches up to kiss Wonwoo again, circling his arms around his neck and pulling him close.

They stay that way for a minute or so, Soonyoung enjoying having Wonwoo pressed up against him and their lips moving slowly together—he can tell Wonwoo’s tired from the way he kisses him, the way his hands have settled heavy on Soonyoung’s hips.  Eventually they break apart, and Wonwoo leans his forehead against Soonyoung’s. “We only have to do this for another four days, you know.  Then I’ll be here all the time.  You’re going to get _so_ sick of me.”

Soonyoung hums happily.  “Never,” he says, letting Wonwoo nose at his cheek before pressing his lips there.  Then he wriggles out of his grasp, stepping back.  “Okay, I really have to go.  Sleep well, honey!”

“Have a good day,” Wonwoo says over his shoulder as Soonyoung heads out the door.  

It’s only a few steps, though, before he hears a small “wait,” from behind him, and turns to see Wonwoo’s head peeking out of their door, pouting a little and looking sheepish.  “One more?”

Soonyoung beams, and hurries back to let himself be pulled into Wonwoo’s arms.  He can do his errands tomorrow, he thinks—tomorrow will be fine.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @wonuza on twitter! come say hi!!!


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